


The IT Crowd

by InsertImaginativeNameHere



Series: Tech AU [2]
Category: Durarara!!, ヴぁんぷ! - 成田良悟 | Vamp! Series - Narita Ryohgo
Genre: Customer Service & Tech Support, Human AU, M/M, Slow Burn, They are terrible IT guys and it's the worst, tech au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-10 14:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11129034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertImaginativeNameHere/pseuds/InsertImaginativeNameHere
Summary: Hackey somehow gets a job and has no idea how. The solution to that lies with his pretentious coworker who he can't stand. But as it turns out the two of them might have more in common than they thought - namely, a tendency to be utterly petty and obnoxious.





	1. Hackey Mouse Gets a Job

**Author's Note:**

> !!!! I FINALLY WROTE THIS  
>  if you want an explanation for any of the nuances of this AU, I'm still figuring them out so idk where shit's at. Ask away tho, there's a whole lot I want to explore.  
> funnily enough, the most detailed notes I have from this are the characters' preferred overwatch mains  
> title is because I'm not funny

[HackeyMouse]: oh come tf on potg pls  
[Yellooooo]: I s2g if they give u play of the game for memeing around I will come to ur home and smash ur pc w a pickaxe  
[HackeyMouse]: bitch ya couldn’t even lift a pickaxe  
[HackeyMouse] ya fuckin nerd  
[Indigohome]: He’s got a point.  
[Yellooooo]: stfu asshole yes I fucking could

 

**Play of the Game - BatWingedPrincess as Mercy**

 

[Yellooooo]: HA!  
[HackeyMouse]: ffs i call bs  
[Yellooooo]: I guess pointing and clicking wasnt enough this time  
[Yellooooo]: sucks to be u  
[HackeyMouse]: fuck u bastion requires skill and full commitment to the meme life  
[TheViscousViscount]: My congratulations, Romy. That five-man res was not only impressive but integral to our eventual victory.  
[BatWingedPrincess]: Thank you, gg guys.  
[HackeyMouse]: none of ya appreciate me, i fuckin swear. im tellin ya ya would have lost without me. im a fuckin gift.  
[Yelloooooo]: gg everyone except hackey ofc  
[Indigohome]: gg. Thank you Romy for all the heals.  
[HackeyMouse]: wtf kind of genji main are ya, thanking healers? ya should be ashamed  
[Indigohome]: A polite one. Ever heard of basic decency?  
[HackeyMouse]: sounds fake  
[HackeyMouse]: also biiiiiiiiiitch since when have ya ever been polite? ur a bitch, bitch.  
[HackeyMouse]: a real bitchy one  
[TheViscousViscount]: Eloquent as ever. You certainly do have a way with words.  
[Yellooooo]: lol imagine being this salty  
[BatWingedPrincess]: btw great job garde on that midair snipe. You’re getting so good at widowmaker.  
[TheMummyReturns]: Eh, I still prefer Reaper but thanks. Nice potg too.  
[HackeyMouse]: wtf is this why does nobody congratulate me when i get potg which is for the record, always  
[Indigohome]: Because we all hate you. Next question.

 

“Excuse me?” Quentin Alistair Winston Sierra Endlington Donaghue, known to his friends (such as they were, _ugh_ ) as Hackey yelled at his computer, before starting to type a cutting response along the lines of ‘fuck u and the horse ya rode in on’.

 

[Indigohome]: I’m not the one with the horse.  
[Indigohome]: After all, Yellow’s the cowboy around here.  
[Yellooooo]: damn right I am  
[Yellooooo]: yeehaw motherfuckers

 

Cursing under his breath, Hackey went offline and slouched into the kitchen, where his roommate was having a whispered phone conversation about something very, very shady that would wind up being the reason rent got paid. Sometimes he asked for Hackey’s help gathering data, getting into various systems without a trace. Hackey really liked to draw out the asking process and make Doubs work for it as much as possible. He was a shit like that.

On seeing him, Doubs finished his call and hung up. “Rare cryptid emerges for the first time in centuries. It’s a miracle.”

“Ha fucking ha,” Hackey muttered. “Real original, mom. Can we get a pizza? I’m fuckin’ starved.”

Doubs smiled thinly. “Well, we can get a pizza or we can pay the light bill. Those are our current options.”

“Ya kiddin’?” Doubs shook his head. “Pizza. Every time. We can live in the fuckin’ dark for all I care, tonight we dine like kings.”

“Shit like this is why your parents cut you off.”

“Okay, first of all my parents are assholes an’ can go fuck themselves, an’ I told them that last time they called. Second of all, they cut me off because I’m ‘living a lifestyle we can’t support’, whatever that means but I think they don’t like me living in a shitty apartment with a shady character who is - oh yeah, I remember now - _you_. Fuck ‘em. I don’t want their money anyway.”

“You mean because you’re an unemployed college grad who spends all his time playing videogames and doing sketchy jobs online?”

“I’m actually self-employed and you’re one to talk! You do exactly the same!”

“Naturally,” Doubs smirked. “But I bring money in. You, meanwhile, leek it all out everywhere, left and centre. It’s not a fair comparison.” Hackey protested and Doubs cut him off. “I have an idea and you’re not going to like it. Just hear me out.”

“Prostitution? Sounds great, when do I start?”

“Close, but not quite. You’re on the right lines though.” His expression turned grim. “You need to get a job.”

Hackey snorted. “Oh wow, who’d ya think you are? The Offspring?”

“Now _that’s_ a dated reference.”

“Your mom’s a dated reference,” Hackey sneered. “Yanno, ‘cause she’s old as balls. Cut her in half an’ count the fuckin’ rings.”

“That’s trees, if I’m not mistaken. Cut a human in half, and they’ll bleed out, if the shock doesn’t kill them first. Not that I’ve tried.” Doubs sounded amused. “But really, you need to get a job.”

“Why don’t ya go actually work yourself, huh? Why’s it gotta be me?”

“ _I_ have a job.” Doubs gestured at the phone.

“Screwing around with people online? Seems legit. If that’s the case, then _I_ got a job too, checkmate.”

“Sitting on your ass and playing videogames is not considered employment, Hackey my friend. I hate to break it to you.” He smiled condescendingly.

“Neither is what you do, ya fuckin’ hypocrite!” Hackey cried, exasperated. “You’re a fuckin’ hypocrite, Doubs Hewley ya fuckin’ fuckfaced dick.”

“Is that news?” Doubs spread his hands smugly. “The key difference between you and me is that I get paid for my hypocrisy. I’m a professional hypocrite. You’re an occasionally paid amateur. And that occasionally is far too infrequent to be relied upon.”

“Yeah, yeah, I getcha,” Hackey muttered. “Since when were you the responsible one?”

Doubs chuckled. “I don’t know, but it’s a sorry state of affairs, isn’t it? Anyway, I paid the light bill yesterday so we’re good for pizza tonight. Just wanted to raise the topic and needed your attention for a minute.”

Spluttering, Hackey furiously waved his gawky arms. “Ya son-of-a-bitch, Doubs. Fuck you.”

And Doubs’ grin widened, like he’d just been complimented rather than insulted.

What a piece of shit.

That was why they were roommates, after all.

 

-

 

The next morning, Hackey woke up at his desk, computer still on, head pounding and hungover. He groaned. The last thing he remembered was eating pizza with Doubs. After that, there was this black spot of fuzzy alcohol. Evidently he’d decided to get piss-drunk on his own. Which was, for the record, incredibly sad. But what else could you expect from such a prime specimen as himself?

He looked up at the screen, blinking against the brightness and physically cringed. What the fuck had he done last night and how much did his bank account regret it?

His eyes adjusted and horror set in as he realised what had happened.

Rainbow comic sans. Size 72 font. Fuck used as punctuation. Hideously drunk typos. A whole section written purely in binary. This was the absolute worst resume ever written, under the influence or not, and he hoped to God he hadn’t sent it in anywhere. That would be too much even for him. Dread mounting, he checked his emails.

 _Oh shitting hell_.

Sent mail - Resume. To every major tech company around, and a bunch of random offices looking for IT and to McDonald’s and Wendy’s and fucking _Target_ for God’s sake. Rejection emails had arrived already. He groaned again, head falling into his hands. Running his hands through his obnoxiously dyed hair he regretted every single thing he’d ever done. This was all Doubs’ fault. It always was. Hauling himself to the shower he cursed for a solid five minutes and tried to will himself out of this uncoordinated, gangly and aching physical form. _Ugh_.

Time for coffee.

He emerged from his room, clutching his head, stumbling over junk he’d left in the hallway.

“Have a nice night?” Doubs called cheerily. He was playing goddamn Mario, damn him. What a slacker piece of shit.

“Fmfck you.”

“Didn’t catch that,” Doubs called back, indicating his own headphones and a notebook. “Transcribing my findings from tapping this doctor’s office.”

“That’s very illegal,” Hackey snickered. “I’m calling the cops.”

“And when they find your stash of weed?”

“It’s yours and I had nothing to do with it, ya scumbag.” Hackey grinned wickedly. “Wee-woo wee-woo hands up motherfucker.”

“Oh no, you got me. I want my lawyer.”

“You have the right to remain silent. Please exercise that right and shut the fuck up.”

“You’re not a very professional police officer,” Doubs commented. “I’d like to place a complaint about this to your superiors. And a lawsuit for your hurtful words.”

“Ohmygodddd you are such a con man.” Hackey rolled his eyes. “Why are you the way you are?”

“Because I’m human trash,” Doubs declared proudly. He passed the controller over to Hackey. “There’s some pizza left from last night. Do you want?”

“Hell yeah I do,” Hackey replied without hesitation, taking the controller and heading to the fridge. “Are ya effin’ kidding me?”

“Nope.” Doubs smiled.

Hackey made eye contact with him and shoved the crusts into his mouth at once before downing a can of Red Bull. “Defuckinglicious. Thanks a bunch.”

“You’re welcome.”

Hackey sat down in front of the TV, switch in hand. “Watch and learn, bitch, watch an’ fuckin’ learn.”

Needless to say, the hangover didn’t help matters and Doubs laughed like a smug fuck. But Hackey knew games, he’d been playing Mario in the fuckin womb and as he woke up, caffeine rush, started playing better. That occupied the rest of the afternoon. Last night’s conversation wasn’t brought up. Hackey didn’t even think about the stupid resume and the flaming mess he’d made of his life.

The phone call came the next morning.

 

-

 

It was early the next morning - by which he meant it was _morning_ \- when his phone buzzed loudly, startling him awake and he had to reach for it blind, slide the blurry call icon across to accept. His glasses were just out of easy reach, so he didn’t bother.

“Uh...hello?” he murmured blearily. “Who is this?”

“Hi, I’m Kelly, calling from AU Solutions. Am I speaking to Quentin Donaghue?”

“Depends on why you’re calling. Did I piss you off somehow? It’s a special skill of mine.”

Uncomfortable laughter. “Ah - no. We wanted to invite you for an interview this Friday. Does that sound okay with you?” She sounded like speaking to him was making her rethink the whole call.

Hackey blinked, baffled. What the actual fuck? “You read my resume, right?” He was fairly certain ‘pissing people off’ was genuinely listed under special skills. That didn’t get you phonecalls like this.

“It was very impressive, yes,” the clipped female voice said. “A Harvard graduate. Well I never.”

Hackey tensed. He hadn’t put that on his resume. He’d told the truth, that he was a dropout, he'd transferred to a shitty college after two months. There was some sort of mix-up going on.

He laughed anyhow. “Guess ya could say that. Sorry, just didn’t expect to get any calls. ‘Specially not so soon.”

“Well, our current specialist hand-picked you personally.” Hackey almost snorted out a lung. Someone, somewhere, was taking the piss, and he wanted to find out who because two could play at that game.

Hackey wasn’t some plaything to be jerked around. He was the puppeteer. He held the strings.

“How nice of him,” Hackey said sweetly. “I can’t wait to meet him. Assuming it is a him, ‘course. Don’t wanna sound like some asshat, if ya pardon my French.”

The woman chuckled. “Good luck with that. I’ve never actually seen the guy face-to-face, only spoken on the phone. He almost never leaves the basement and it’s a trek from HR down there. But I guess he’s good at his job, we don’t have many problems, except the weird password thing but you get used to it. You’ll be in good hands. Assuming you get the job, after all.” She didn’t sound convinced that would be the case. Neither was Hackey, to be honest.

“What weird password thing?” Hackey asked, curious.

“It doesn’t matter. A...a glitch, alright?” the woman seemed eager to brush over that. “At a guess, do you want an afternoon interview?”

“Ya read my mind. What are ya, psychic?”

“Far from it,” the woman replied. “I’ll see you then, Mr Donaghue. Best of luck.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks. Seeya.” He hung up and flopped back in bed, feeling like he wasn’t awake, feeling like this was some surreal dream. “Huh.”

Now how the fuck had he got a job interview?

 

-

 

He asked Doubs if he had anything to do with it.

“I’m serious, man, who would hire me?”

“Not me, that’s for sure.”

“Liar. Ya paid me for all kinda shit.” Hackey studied Doubs’ expression carefully. “Tell me the truth. Did ya arrange this?”

Doubs shrugged. “I’m afraid my influence does not extend so far that I can get you, trademarked hopeless cause, a job interview of all things. It seems to me the fault lies with whoever this mysterious basement tech man is.”

“Must be some kinda sad weirdo, that’s for sure. He changed my resume to say I graduated Harvard. What else did he alter? I just wanna know what game he’s playin’.”

“You’re getting obsessed, friend.”

Hackey reddened. “Am _not_ . Ya gotta admit, it’s confusing. If he saw my actual resume, he knows what a catastrophe I am. What motive does he have to edit it? To nominate _me_ specifically for the job. If ya were in my shoes, you would be curious too, don’t even lie.”

“I admit, it’s intriguing.”

“Fuckin’ batshit’s what it is. I’m gonna get to the bottom of it, you mark my goddamn words.”

 

-

 

He asked his groupchat friends if they knew anything. He didn’t think they would be it was always possible with some of those weirdos. Like Rude, he owned a few businesses, maybe he had some sway. Rich dudes often did. Dorrikey was a private eye and the guy he lived with/minded was a fucking mind-reading bastard genius type and a total delinquent who went off his meds every few weeks (and on or off them, was a manipulative fuck, likely to pull something like this) so any of them could have been involved. Not even starting on some of the others and how weird they could get.

He could rule out Gerhardt, who was by his own admission and those who’d met him irl mute, which made up for being such a wordy dad-joke SOB online. Besides, he was in Germany. Yellow and Aiji were jackasses but they didn’t have the sway to do that. Caldimir was obnoxious but not practical, and Laetitia was busy adopting children or something. Hawking was a telepathic black hole who could only be heard by Mirald, meds or no, so uh yeah not him. As for Melhilm, who knew what shit he’d pull? Ugh. Prick. But he’d not been active in chat for a while, so it was unlikely to have anything to do with him. The only reason Hackey checked was...well, his friends were complete dicks, so it wasn’t totally beyond belief.

Had to cover all the bases before he went in there, right?

 

[TheViscousViscount]: How strange. That truly is a conundrum.  
[TheViscousViscount]: A veritable mystery to be sure.  
[Yellooooo]: BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA  
[Yellooooo]: who tf would give u a job?  
[HackeyMouse]: job interview, not a job  
[HackeyMouse]: and thats what im asking u  
[HackeyMouse]: does ANYONE have any idea wtf is going on  
[mirror-mirror]: search me. I’m not a mindreader, am I now? ;)  
[MoriartysBane]: Screw you, Mirald.  
[mirror-mirror]: :) My, Dorrikey, someone’s in a mood.  
[MoriartysBane]: I hate everything about you  
[mirror-mirror]: that’s not what you said last night~

 

**MoriartysBane has left the chat**

 

[HackeyMouse]: wowowowowowow drama queen or what  
[mirror-mirror]: amusing, isn’t he?  
[mirror-mirror]: he just stormed into my room ranting and stormed out, slamming the door.  
[mirror-mirror]: I think he’s going to try turn the wifi off. so I have to go.  
[mirror-mirror]: good luck with your quest, anyhow. send doubs my best, since he’s still banned from the chat apparently.  
[Yellooooo]: for good fucking reason, knowing him.  
[HackeyMouse]: yea yea i’ll tell him the asshole-in-chief says hi.  
[HackeyMouse]: so none of ya have a clue?  
[HackeyMouse]: shit i forgot to ask mirald if hawking knew anything about this lmao  
[Indigohome]: Oh come on, that’s in poor taste.  
[HackeyMouse]: mirald finds it funny! hes actually got a sense of humor unlike u fucks  
[Indigohome]: Mirald has mental health problems.  
[HackeyMouse]: what else is new  
[HackeyMouse]: oh yea, i got a job interview thru some weirdness an i need to kno how this fuckin happened  
[TheMummyReturns]: I think you’re overreacting.  
[TheMummyReturns]: It isn’t necessarily some paranoid conspiracy, for anyone except you.  
[HackeyMouse]: yes it fuckin is  
[HackeyMouse]: whoever this other guy is, he has my original resume an trust me, no 1 wld hire someone w that.  
[HackeyMouse]: yet he went out of his way to get me this job  
[HackeyMouse]: an i wanna kno why  
[HackeyMouse]: somethin funnys goin on  
[Yellooooo]: who’s the drama queen now?  
[Yellooooo]: it’s just a prank, bro  
[HackeyMouse]: nobody fucks around with me. it’s on.  
[HackeyMouse]: like donkey fucking kong an his monster dong  
[Indigohome]: Did any of us need that mental image?  
[HackeyMouse]: yes.

 

-

 

“The asshole-in-chief says hi, btw.”

“Why did you shorten that verbally when it takes longer to say?” Doubs asked absently.

“Because it’s my life, bitch.” Hackey turned to Doubs, adjusting his own shirt collar and shrugging vaguely. “He seems alright.”

Doubs nodded. “Spoke to him recently. New meds seem to be working. He’s the asshole-in-chief we all know and love, rather than being totally unstable. He’s only a pinch unstable right now. When are you adding me back to the chat, anyway?”

“Later, later,” Hackey said dismissively. “I’ve got a job interview now. Might finally get some answers.”

“Might finally get a job, even. Or pigs could fly. We’re living in an age of miracles.”

“No need to be rude,” Hackey pulled a face. “Ya know what, I’m gonna get this job now. ‘Cause fuck you, Doubs Hewley. Fuckadoodle- _you_.”

He left their apartment and caught the bus across to the generic, mediocre office building of mystery, towering tall and grey above him. He wondered if he should have been wearing a tie and whether he was physically capable of mugging someone to steal theirs - he doubted it. Likely as not they’d take one look at his hair and piercings and tattoos and that’d be it. He’d be out the door before he could get a word in his defence.

This could be his workplace. But then who’d be crazy enough to hire him?

Someone who was crazy enough to call him for an interview.

Walking up to the desk, he smiled confidently at the reception. “Hi. Hac- Quentin Donaghue. Here for the interview?”

“You’re the only one,” the receptionist, ‘RAQUEL’ muttered, bored. “Nobody else showed.”

“Really?” Hackey asked, not sure if he was hopeful or disappointed. The woman nodded. “Where should I wait?”

“Go straight up to HR. Fourth floor. Kelly’s off sick, so it’s Martin you need to ask for.”

“Right. Thanks.” Hackey swallowed a sudden, creeping nervousness. What did they call it, trepidation? He walked through to the elevator, heart doing a strange dance. It wasn’t about the job, he told himself. It was the mystery of it. He wasn’t someone you could fuck with.

Ding. The right floor.

“I’m here to see Martin?” A revolving chair spun around, a harmless enough balding man with an eager smile stood up. “Uh...I’m Quentin? But people call me Hackey.”

“You must be here for the IT position.” Hackey nodded awkwardly. “Judging by your hair, you’ll know just what you’re doing.”

Hackey wasn’t sure what hair had to do with it. Presumably dyed hair was a clear indicator of being young enough to know how to turn a computer on and off again, or vice versa, whichever it was. “Apparently I’m the only one to show.”

Martin smiled ruefully. “Yes you are. Also final candidate of the day. So this isn’t really an interview so much as an orientation. When can you start?”

“When...do you want me to start?”

“Monday morning?”

Hackey’s mind screamed at the prospect of _being conscious_ before noon. But he nodded. “Alright by me.” It wasn’t. But he said it anyway. Was this how people normally got jobs? Bullshitting out of their ass? Probably.

_That and mysterious tech guys in the basement._

“Perfect!” Martin reached out and shook his hand insistently. “I guess I’d better show you down where you’ll be working.”

“Oh yes,” Hackey perked up. “With this other IT guy I’ve heard _so much_ about. What’s he like?”

Martin shrugged. “Search me. Real enigmatic fella. Keeps to himself.”

“Kelly mentioned some password weirdness?”

Martin rolled his eyes. “Alright, so he has a tendency to cc people in emails about password security, ranking everyone he finds unimaginative. You can’t sit on a password longer than a couple of months before it gets randomly changed. You get used to it after a while. Think of a good password to start with. That’ll put you in good stead.”

“Sounds like an absolute fuc- fun time, fun time.” Hackey caught himself when he saw the swear jar. Yeah, no, he couldn’t afford that shit. “He must be wild at office parties.”

“Never attends,” Martin said as he ushered Hackey back into the elevator. “Meetings neither. Everyone in the office knows of him, and he knows everything that happens, don’t ask me how. Most people never see him.”

“What happens when the computers break?”

Martin chuckled, an old man laugh, older than he was. “He uses some weird thing to take control, I don’t understand it one bit. If they break worse, he says he could fix them up but we should figure out how to do it ourselves. They’re always running the next day so….I don’t know. He can get away with that because he’s worked here a while. You don’t get to do that sort of thing. We expect you to pull your weight.”

It sounded exhausting. Hackey certainly didn’t intend to do that. He planned to stay long enough to figure out what was up then get fired dramatically, or quit, or whatever. He’d get away with as little work as possible.

“Any idea why he recommended me for the job?” Hackey asked, testing the water.

“Who knows? He’s a strange one. You’ll meet him in just a moment.”

First floor, then basement. Ding.

Doors opened.

Down a darkened corridor, past the server room, to an office bearing the words ‘TE H SUPPO’. Martin smiled, that oh-so-false smile and knocked on the door, before easing it open. Unsure what to expect, Hackey followed him in. The office was small, meticulously neat. There was a small teapot and heater on one desk, and a disused coffee machine in the corner. There was a cupboard with a NO ENTRY sign on it. Scooped up in an orange chair, a Japanese man turned to look at him with dark, clever eyes. His hair was a dark mess, and he looked younger than Hackey had pictured. When he made eye contact with Hackey, he smiled faintly, but definitively. Hackey glared. He didn’t trust this guy. He felt distinctly fucked around with, and he _hated_ that feeling.

“Quentin Donaghue - sorry, Hackey, was it? - this is Shinichi Tsukumoya,” Martin was saying. “You’ll be working together.”

And the fucker was _definitely_ smirking like a total bag of dicks as he stood up to shake Hackey’s hand and said, “Charmed.”

What. A. Prick.

Hackey hated him already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so my overwatch notes tho  
> Hackey - Bastion (bc ofc. also, it's fuckin hilarious) or Torb bc he's a fucklord  
> Romy - Mercy, Orisa, D.Va.  
> Yellow - McCree. Also considered maybe Lucio if he has to go healer.  
> Aiji - Genji, Hanzo, Zenyatta  
> Gerhardt - Reinhardt. FUCKIN DUH  
> Doubs - Sombra. bc ofc.  
> Garde - Team Talon all the way. they're a reaper main tho


	2. How the Fuck Hackey Mouse Got a Job Interview (and what came next)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> presumably I will be swapping perspectives each chapter, but I doubt I'll be strict about it
> 
> IN BUDAPEST AND GOING TO AMSTERDAM TMR SO EYYYY IS A FUN TIME BEING ME RIGHT NOW if stressful because I have that Anxiety it's sick fam.
> 
> But I've got writering done and it's fun so here goes a chapter.

**How the fuck Hackey Mouse got a job interview (and what came next)**

 

“With all respect, I’d rather not have a coworker. I can handle the caseload just fine.”

His boss sighed. “I know, Shinichi. You enjoy your privacy. However with our expansions, brilliant as you are, it’d be simply unethical to put all that on you. Unethical. Not to mention inefficient.”

“Ah, that sounds more like it. I was wondering where ethics factored into the capitalist model,” Shinichi muttered wryly. “I suppose I understand your logic. May I evaluate candidates myself? I have the required technical understanding of the field those in HR simply lack.”

“If you insist.” The boss shrugged. “After all, you know best, don’t you? It’d make a lot of sense.”

“Yes,” Shinichi said. “It would.”

 

-

 

He’d been the resident IT specialist there for almost three years now, his entire time in America. He spoke better English than pretty much the rest of the staff. He was settled, he had his arrangement, things were good. Anywhere else, and his little niche would have caved in long ago. He knew he was lucky to find such reasonable employers, who understood and made allowances for his idiosyncrasies. Still, it was somewhat disappointing to find this haven would be coming to an end, that someone else would be intruding in on it. 

_ Don’t you want the company? _ He was asked, to which he shrugged noncommittally. He was perfectly fine keeping up communications with old friends and acquaintances back in Japan, that was an adequate amount of socialisation. He didn’t get lonely.

_ It’ll be a weight off your shoulders _ . He had no problem with his work, barring the various people who kept bricking their laptops by downloading every virus they could find to it. It wasn’t a burden on him anyway. 

_ It’s policy _ . Yes, it was.

That didn’t mean he had to like it. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t do his bit to obstruct it as subtly as possible, from the inside. Nobody would suspect him. Well, perhaps the boss would but then he would have no proof, because Shinichi would delete any trail possibly left behind. Nobody would ever know. He waited, biding his time for the first email to come through, scanned over the resume, and promptly deleted it from existence before anyone could see it. A little while later a second came through, and he deleted that too. 

He let the third one through, it was an unimpressive resume and would be dismissed easily enough. Same applied to the fourth and fifth. The sixth was copied and pasted, stolen from somewhere else, so he informed HR of this promptly. And so he continued, deleting anyone who was too good, allowing only typo-ridden mistakefests through, and unimaginative, uncompelling pieces nobody would look twice at. This continued for the next week, weeding out the majority of applicants, thinning the herd. Right now, he didn’t have much of a plan beyond that. They would hire someone unimpressive and they would do very little, and the system Shinichi had in place would continue to work. His role would remain as it was. 

Nothing would change.

At least, so he planned. But as soon as he clicked on ‘Hackey Mouse’s INCREDIBLE portfololio lololololol dont hire me’ he knew he’d stumbled on a goldmine. Everything about this gave all the signs of being written by a complete fool. A complete fool with impressive technical knowledge, too much time and alcohol on their hands, and access to the life of Rick Astley on wikipedia. It was the technical knowledge that caught his eye - a section in binary (said essay on Rick Astley),  bragging that they hadn’t used an online converter at all ‘except for the last part ‘cause I was sooooo wasted lmao’ (and indeed the last part had less typos). And then they talked about their previous experience as ‘Total Asshat’ at ‘Memelord Central’. Aside from that though, their qualifications were legit and all seemed to check out, from dropping out of Harvard to graduating with decent grades from a nearby college. In fact, Shinichi managed to find them online - under the name Hackey Mouse, and saw they did indeed have considerable aptitude. 

In that split second, he made a decision. 

He saved the document to his PC, then deleted the email as he’d done so many others. He edited it, recolouring and resizing the text, cutting out-there sections and buffing the qualifications a little. Soon he had it polished to within readability, then hireability, then Quentin Alistair Winston Sierra Endlington Donaghue was soon the most capable candidate for the job.

He resent the resume, then gave his glowing recommendation to the most ridiculous, immature,  _ worst _ candidate he’d been able to find, or was likely to  _ ever _ find anywhere on the planet. 

The plan had evolved now. Ensure they hired the idiot, and let him get himself fired naturally. It wouldn’t be worth hiring extra IT help. So the system would continue.

And if the guy stuck around, he’d be reasonable entertainment. 

Still, he had to make it through the interview stage.

So Shinichi used Kelly’s email account to contact all the other applicants and tell them unfortunately, due to cutbacks, the position was no longer going to be available. He deleted this email, and blocked the other candidates accounts. 

When the day of the interview came, only one person turned up.

That person being Hackey Mouse.

 

-

 

 

“I’ll leave you two to get to know one another, shall I?” Martin said, backing out of the room with a cheerful wave. 

“You do that. Send my best to Patricia,” Shinichi replied, smiling. Martin spluttered opening his mouth and closing it in panic.

“How-” he began.

Shinichi waved a dismissive hand. “You were sexting on work servers. Does your wife know, by the way?”

“Please, don’t tell anyone.” Shinichi mimed zipping his lips. “I- uh- I should go.” Martin turned and practically fled the room. 

The new hire snorted. “Well, ya handled that nicely.” He was studying Shinichi with narrowed eyes, glaring at him, sizing him up. His hair was scruffy and dyed bright green, and he wore glasses. His face was covered with an unreasonable amount of freckles. He appeared to have made a small, miniscule effort to tidy himself up, an ill-fitting shirt, top button undone, no tie. Obnoxiously bright, neon sneakers. The attempt was, well, halfhearted at best. “Are ya this much of a dick to everyone?”

“I’m not the one having an affair,” Shinichi pointed out. “By all rights, I ought to contact his wife and send copies of the messages her husband’s been sending. Believe me, I’m not the one being a dick.”

“Oh, how thoughtful,” the idiot muttered, surveying the room, unimpressed. “What the fuck, dude? What is your fuckin’ deal? Ya edit my resume, make sure I get this job, I fuckin’ bet ya called all the other applicants an’ made sure they didn’t show. Why?”

“Why not?” Shinichi shrugged.

Quentin Donaghue looked gobsmacked. He took a step toward Shinichi, personal space right out of the window as he waved his arms madly. “Why not, ya bastard? Why not? What the fuck kind of answer is that? I can list a hundred fuckin’ reasons why not. What I wanna know is why. What kinda shit do ya think you’re pulling?”

“I’m stealing from the company and I wanted an incompetent so I could cover it up,” Shinichi deadpanned. Donaghue’s eyes widened. “That was a joke, Donaghue.”

“Don’t- don’t fuckin’ call me that. Hackey. People call me Hackey.” He folded his long, gangly arms stubbornly.

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Shinichi smiled. “Donaghue.”

Donaghue exploded. “Motherfucker! If I’ve got to work with ya all fuckin’ day, I swear I’m gonna throw myself off a goddamn roof.” Dramatic, wasn’t he? Between the gesticulating and the speech patterns and the way he got right up in your face, he was a furious bundle of petty melodrama. Unlikely to stick around long for that very reason. “Ya had your laugh? Ha fuckin’ ha, good one, Shit-itchy Tsuku-whatever. Glad I could provide some entertainment to your sad, empty, pathetic little life.”

“Indeed,” Shinichi replied drily. “Thank you so much.”

“Why?” Donaghue spat again, flecks of spit hitting Shinichi in the face. “What was the point in all this?” Shinichi shrugged. “Oh, don’t. If ya say why not, I’m gonna fuckin’ set everything on fire. Starting with that fancy-ass egg chair. Why’d ya get the fancy chair and I just get a shitty office chair that looks like it’s made of dead cats?”

“It’s my chair. I paid for it. If you want a different chair, bring your own.”

Donaghue’s expression soured, struggling to find words. “I- I just might. I got a gaming chair that has like, heated seat and twelve reclining settings.”

“I believe they call that a waste of money.”

“I believe they call  _ your mom  _ a waste of money.” Donaghue scratched the back of his head self-consciously and then felt the need to elaborate. “Yanno, ‘cause she’s the world’s shittest whore. People queue around the block to demand refunds.”

“What an astute observation.”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch!” he snapped. 

“Why, Donaghue. I thought you wanted an explanation of my dastardly evil plans.”

That stumped him. “Well uh- I do, sure. But ya gotta be sitting in the chair like a proper villain to do that. An’ say like, Mr Bond or somethin’. I dunno. Ya should though.”

Shinichi raised his eyebrows but obliged. Really, this man was proving quite entertaining, when he wasn’t breathing air from  _ inside _ your personal bubble. He sank back into his chair and swivelled around. “I imagine you’re wondering why you’re here, Mr Donaghue.”

“It’s Mr Mouse, Hackey Mouse, but whatever. And damn right I am.”

“Well, it’s a simple thing.” He steepled his fingers and peered over them, like a ‘proper villain’. “I never wanted a coworker. Hiring someone like you means I won’t have to tolerate the inconvenience of one long. Do you follow?”

“Do I follow- do I  _ fucking follow _ ?” Donaghue raged. “Ya want me to get myself fired, is that right?” Shinichi nodded. “Well fuck you, you’re stuck with me. I’m gonna stay here an’ ya can’t shift me. I’m keeping this job.”

“Fine by me. If you want to act like a child, who am I to argue?”

“I’ll tell you who ya are.” Donaghue leaned in. “You’re the fucker who played along with this bs. You set this up, so yanno what that makes you? A petty fuckin’ child. A petty. Fuckin’.  _ Child _ .” He turned to leave, then glanced back and gave Shinichi a wicked grin. “I’ll see ya on Monday, bitch.”

What a delightful man.

A shame he probably wouldn’t be around long. He was amusing. Though that would probably get tiresome quickly. 

There was no way someone like that could hold down a job.

Was there?

 

-

 

**Orihara Izaya returns to life!**

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

And so he reappears.

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

I didn’t think you’d be keen to show your face here again after the photoshop debacle.

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

...yeah, no, I’m not.

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

Just thought I’d stop by and say hi

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

since you don’t have any friends, someone has to make sure you didn’t die overnight, not that it’d be much of a loss

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

Since you replied, I’m taking that’s a no.

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

So far as you know.

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

You have no verifiable evidence of who you are speaking to.

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

You’re acting like an asshole so it’s you

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

Not an attitude exclusive to myself, I’m afraid.

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

For instance, I could name a certain individual with whom I have some association and am communicating with currently. 

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

I could name him...but I won’t.

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

Why do I even keep in touch with you?

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

You leaving Japan was the best thing that’s happened in a long while.

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

...on that note, isn’t it like 3am where you are?

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

I don’t appreciate the implied judgement on my lifestyle, Orihara

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

It’s not even implied, it’s just flat-out judgement, tbh

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

What kind of stereotypical internet-addicted loner are you?

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

One who photoshopped you in drag once and is prepared to do it again.

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

You wouldn’t

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

You’re right. I wouldn’t.

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

I’d think of something far more inventive instead.

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

Look at the time, I have to go. 

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

What a relief.

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

Funny, I was just about to say the same thing.

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

Also, go the fuck to sleep.

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

You’ll get sick

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

What’s this? Are you showing concern? Need I mark this date on the calendar as one to remember? 

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

‘The first day Orihara showed human emotion in living memory’

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

I feel that’d make a very catchy national holiday.

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

Actually it’s because you’re even more of an obnoxious pain in the ass when you’re ill. 

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

...and if this conversation has proven anything, it’s that you’re bad enough to begin with.

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

Takes one to know one, I guess.

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

Go. To. Sleep.

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

But I’m online 24/7, didn’t you know that, Yamcha?

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

Whatever. It’s your life.

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

Fuck up your sleep schedule if you want. I have work to do.

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

On the topic of work, I find myself with a coworker, whose powers of frustration rival your own.

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

He is, in short, a headache. Visually, mentally, emotionally. And I ensured he of all candidates got the job 

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

He’ll get himself fired, no doubt about it, but until then I’m stuck with him. Which may prove entertaining or grating, who knows?

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

Still, he is somewhat intriguing. Not to mention highly amusing.

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

And he certainly has the technical knowledge. Even if it is buried under layers of memes.

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

...many, many layers of memes.

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

Many.

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

He despises me anyhow, so we’re beginning on a good footing. All-out war, I believe. I’m almost looking forward to and dreading Monday in equal measure.

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

Wow, if I didn’t know better I’d say you had some sort of angry crush on this guy, but that’d require being human.

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone~

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

Your secret’s safe with me

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

So what’s his name? Not so I can message him about this and send screenshots or anything.

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

Ah, Orihara. I can’t give away that kind of information. Company policy.

 

_ Tsukumoya Shinichi _

Nice try though.

 

_ Orihara Izaya _

Have fun making out with your new little friend. Xxx :)

 

**Orihara Izaya confirmed dead!**

 

Tsukumoya pushed the keyboard away and frowned. Entertaining though the banter had been, there was absolutely no basis for any of those allegations. No, it was merely Orihara being a complete fuck.

He did wonder why he’d made sure Donaghue of all people got the job. Rather than someone he might have been able to tolerate. He’d picked the most abrasive person possible. Handpicked them.

Why? 

_ So they would get fired _ , he told himself.

_ Morbid curiosity _ , he told himself.

_ Schadenfreude _ , he told himself.

It wasn’t like him to meddle with things like that. He preferred to stay out of - well, everything. He didn’t do things like this at all.

Why Quentin Donaghue?

Why  _ Hackey _ ?

Monday ticked steadily closer, but the answer remained at large. He did, however, know that Orihara was wrong. 

Dead wrong.

 

-

 

Monday came around.

He heard the office door open and his new colleague enter. On heelies. Sipping a painfully bright green drink.

“What’s up, ya lonely little fuck?”

Shinichi smiled. 

“Nothing much. Are those children’s shoes, Donaghue?”

_ So it begins _ .

Though it had already begun weeks prior to this, now the first salvo was fired.

Now it started in earnest.

 

-

 

And that was how the fuck Hackey Mouse got a job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes I cackled writing the Izaya bit why did u want to know it's not like self-referential humour is my lifeblood.


	3. First Day at Work For Hackey Mouse, Current Holder of Laziest Man Ever International Record

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea how long this fic is gonna be but here's another chapter of Hackey being a dick  
> human emotions were shown this chapter  
> these dorks cant handle them

**First Day at Work For Hackey Mouse, Current Holder of Laziest Man Ever International Record**

 

“I fuckin’ hate the guy. He’s such a condescending prick it’s unreal! Can ya fuckin’ believe he rigged everything so I’d get the job just so I’d get fired? Unfuckingbelievable. I wanna wipe that smug look off his face and set fire to his stupid goddamn egg chair. While he’s sat in it.”

Doubs raised an eyebrow. “That seems somewhat extreme.”

“Extreme?!” Hackey waved his arms dramatically. “Did ya hear what he said about my gaming chair? In fact, were ya even listening to anything I said these past twenty minutes? He’s a grade A asshole shitfuck bastard full of crap an’ jackassery an’ shit. He deserves everything I’m gonna rain down on him.”

“You’ve been ranting non-stop about him for twenty minutes,” Doubs pointed out. “This morning you said you weren’t obsessed.”

“I’m not!” Hackey reddened. “It’s just fuckin’ on. I’m takin’ that pretty sonuvabitch down a peg or ten or hell, a hundred.” Soon as the words had left his mouth, he realised what he’d said and prayed Doubs wouldn’t notice. Doubs _always_ noticed.

“Oh, so he’s pretty, is he?”

“I mean, that was an insult!” Hackey protested. “Like, he’s tiny and Japanese and pretty, it’s a fuckin’ insult isn’t it?”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Doubs smirked wickedly.

“Piss off, Shakespeare an’ get back to makin’ dick jokes an’ fuckin’ Christopher Marlowe.”

“There’s no historical evidence that happened.”

Hackey snorted. “‘Course it did. Everyone knows that. Just like everyone knows if you call a guy pretty it’s an insult!”

“But you _do_ think he’s pretty?” Doubs persisted, and Hackey was 100% certain he’d never hated him more.

Hackey groaned. “I guess. He doesn’t deserve it, ugh.”

Doubs laughed. “So let me get this straight. You’re going back to work and you fully intend to keep this job just to spite your admittedly pretty coworker who you ranted at me about for a full twenty-two minutes. This reeks of sexual frustration.”

“I- ya- I am NOT sexually frustrated!” Hackey spluttered. “You- you’re the one who’s sexually frustrated! Since ya last got laid in like, 17BC.”

Doubs’ smirk only widened. “Ah, but that means I’ve got laid. Unlike some people.”

“Fuck you, Doubs! I have too- I- I’ve done the do- your mom, alright! ‘Cause she’s a fuckin’ whore, ain’t she? She’d have to be to give birth to you!”

“Does that make you my stepdad?”

“Nope, so doesn’t. An’ I am absolutely not crushing on that fuck Tsukumoya. Even if I was, I could do so much better.”

“Like my mother?”

“Like your mom, yup. Exactly.”

 

-

 

The weekend was mostly spent online, trying to find out what he could about the mysterious basement goblin he’d soon be working with/declaring war on. Most of what he did find was in Japanese, a language he had basic knowledge of from watching a shittonne of anime as an edge teen and slacker adult. Still, some if not almost all slipped past him so he decided fuck it, he needed to recruit help. Aiji and Yellow would have to help him. He proposed an arrangement with them; he’d buy them lootboxes in return for their assistance.

Aiji and Yellow agreed to help.

Not without taking the piss. A lot.

 

[Yellooooo]: so what ur saying is u have a CRUSH <333  
[HackeyMouse]: fuck u no i fuckin dont  
[HackeyMouse]: 1st doubs no u bitches  
[HackeyMouse]: the lot of ya are dead to me  
[Indigohome]: Careful. We can message this Tsukumoya professing your feelings.  
[Yellooooo]: yeah! we can send him screenshots of all the times you’ve bitched about him to us  
[Yellooooo]: ...all the many, many times  
[HackeyMouse]: if ya fuckin dare i’ll find that restaurant ya like in nyc and send that nice man who runs it lots of embarrassing memes abt u  
[HackeyMouse]: and ya kno i will  
[Yellooooo]: there is NOTHING going on there fuck you  
[HackeyMouse]: well there wont be when im finished, ya can be damn sure of that  
[HackeyMouse]: just tell me what ya found already

 

What they’d found was a big fat lot of nothing.

Shinichi Tsukumoya, it seemed, came from Tokyo. Specifically Ikebukuro. He kept a reasonably popular blog recording unusual happenstances and various other goings on. He’d graduated from a prestigious university with high grades and had plenty of experience in his field.

Beyond that, nothing. He was like a cardboard cutout, nothing behind that front. There was no info about him, no clear associates, no pressure points. If Hackey hadn’t met him face to face, there would have been absolutely no evidence the guy existed offline.

No family. No photographs. No _nothing_.

Aiji had demanded payment upfront so Hackey’s bank account was drained. And for what? Jackshit.

He was seriously pissed off now and determined to win this petty conflict of pettiness.

This determination, of course, somehow translated into a crush in the minds of everyone else. Fucking bullshit.

Like he’d like a stuck-up asshole like that. Like he’d ever.

Then it was Monday, all of a sudden, and he was due for his first day at work. He even woke up early, ready for it, downing his coffee while it was still hot and burning his tongue in the process, much to Doubs’ shitfuck amusement.

“‘s not fuckin’ funny,” Hackey muttered.

“Oh, it’s very fucking funny. Are you that eager to see your boyfriend again?”

“For fuck’s sake, we’ve met once, Doubs, and he pissed me off so much I’m only going back to get even. What part of that remotely speaks uncontrollable attraction?”

“All of it.”

“Absolutely fuckin’ not,” Hackey retorted. He picked out a neon pair of shoes with light-up heels. “Whaddaya think? Heelies, nice an’ extra an’ full of memey shit?”

Doubs smirked. “You will break your neck, my friend.”

“Yeah, an’ that’s good luck, right?”

“It’s legs, and only metaphorically. Not literally,” Doubs pointed out.

“Eh, what’s the difference? Nowhere in the office dress code does it forbid heelies. I read that shit last night, if he wants to complain he doesn’t have a leg to stand on.” Hackey folded his arms smugly.

“Neither will you, with your coordination. Are we forgetting what happened last time you wore those cursed shoes? Has the concussion affected your memory? Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should.”

“Sorry, can’t hear you, gotta go to work. Bye~” he sang obnoxiously, and heelied out the door, not even crashing into the door frame on the way. Fucking _skilled_.

He did crash into every other doorframe from that point on and manage to fall over on the bus somehow but that was beside the point. He rolled into the office, smugly sipping his slushie and grinning like a jackass. This was where it really began. This was the front line.

Huh. Maybe he _was_ a little obsessed. Justifiably so though.

_Justifiably._

“What’s up, ya lonely little fuck?”

He heard the piece of shit smirk from his perch in that egg chair. “Nothing much. Are those children’s shoes, Donaghue?”

It took all his effort not to spray the goddamn slushie everywhere. “Absolutely! So much cooler than your boring as fuck whatevers. I’ve got heelies. Jealous?”

“Funnily enough, no. Is that drink _legal_? It looks like it violates several health codes and radioactivity levels.”

Hackey took a huge slurp, and gave himself brain freeze. “Jesus, is fun illegal in here? Like, do ya enjoy anything except being a killjoy and lording it over everyone else?”

“Well, there’s always time for smugness and disdain, not to mention showing other people up.” Tsukumoya shrugged. “That seems to be the crux of my hobbies, though I’m sure there are others I’ve neglected to mention.”

“Do ya really have to talk like a pompous asshat?” Hackey muttered, slouching into the dead cat chair. That reminded him, he needed to call some delivery guys to get his fancy chair over here, if he was going to be staying.

“English isn’t my first language, Donaghue,” Tsukumoya replied, not so much as glancing away from his screen. “Way to be a jerk.”

“Bitch, you speak better English than like, ninety percent of native speakers. There’s no way ya don’t do this on purpose.” Hackey spun around on the chair absently, casting occasional glares across the office at his coworker. Who was ignoring him like a total dick and actually doing work.

“If you say so, Donaghue.” Tsukumoya took a sip from a mug of tea. “There’s work to be done. You could make a start on your share of it.” He indicated a pile of paperwork sat on the desk. “Or not. Your choice.”

Ugh. People accusing him of liking this guy really had no clue. “Seeing as I work here now, I guess I’d better.”

“For now,” Tsukumoya murmured.

That really irked Hackey. He needed to find something to get under this dude’s skin soon, he couldn’t admit defeat. Opening a youtube tab he considered his options and then decided it was absolutely the time for a nightcore rendition of Take On Me at full volume. Perfect.

Glancing over at Tsukumoya, he smirked. _Haha bitch. Enjoy_.

The egg chair rotated and his coworker raised a lazy eyebrow, then turned back to his screen, clicking on a couple of things and then, suddenly Hackey saw his own cursor move by itself and close the youtube tab. A message popped up.

 

**Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Headphones, Donaghue.

 

“Motherfucker!” Hackey shot a look across the room.

“I can do this all day, Donaghue.”

While Hackey wanted to test that, he decided reluctantly to start transferring this information to the relevant databases. The instructions provided were minimal and there was no way he’d ask that bastard for help. But he was smart, he did what he could, made his way through the pile until the phone rang.

“Ya gonna answer that?” he asked.

“I thought you worked here now,” Tsukumoya replied. And Hackey got a good glimpse at his monitor and _God he’d never hated this guy more than right now._

“You’re playing fucking Tetris, ya lying hypocrite whoreface! What the shit?! Ya call me a slacker but you’re just a bad, ain’t ya? You’re a fuckin’ jerkwad, Shinichi Tsukumoya.”

“My mistake. Clearly you don’t work here. It’s been a pleasure knowing you, Donaghue.”

“No no no, ya can’t get rid of me that easy. I’m here to stay.” Hackey took the call. “Ha- Quentin Donaghue. How can I help?”

“Uh, this is Patricia? My computer won’t turn on, I think it’s broken.”

“Is it plugged in?”

“Um...what do you mean?”

Hackey sighed with exasperation, partly at this idiot he was talking to, partly at the look on Tsukumoya’s face as he got a fucking high-score on Tetris. “Into the wall? Is it plugged in to the wall?”

Movement, scuffling. “ _Oh_. Never mind. Goodbye.” She hung up, without even a thanks, leaving Hackey glaring at the phone in frustration.

Kicking against the wall he propelled himself across the room to where Tsukumoya was apparently now working and had never been wasting time ever or at all. “Did that really happen? Ya gotta be jokin’ me. People cannot be that stupid.”

“You’d be surprised. I’ve worked here three years, Donaghue. Once I was yelled at for half an hour because I couldn’t fix a computer they hadn’t even turned on. People are by large exactly as stupid as you can possibly imagine and more.”

Something clicked in Hackey’s memory. “Wait, isn’t Patricia the one who Martin’s cheating on his wife with? Why the fuck would anyone want to date someone like that?”

“The mind does boggle, doesn’t it?” Tsukumoya continued to keep his eyes fixed on the screen.

Grabbing his chair, Hackey turned him around so they were face-to-face. “Yeah, it fuckin’ does. I tell ya what else I’m confused about - you. Who even are you? I tried to find ya online.”

“I can imagine you had a time with that,” Tsukumoya said quietly.

“A real fuckin’ time, yep. What is your deal? I don’t get it. I just don’t get ya.”

Tsukumoya was silent. He wasn’t meeting Hackey’s eyes. Almost looking past him when he spoke. “What do you want to get?”

“I-” Hackey trailed off. “I dunno. Ya just...you’re fuckin’ weird, okay?”

“I’ve gathered as much, yes.”

“Why?” That was all Hackey could ask, honestly. Why was Shinichi Tsukumoya so confusing and why did he want to know more, despite finding him beyond irritating? Why was he the way he was?

Tsukumoya finally met Hackey’s eyes. “Could you get back to your side of the office? Please.”

And Hackey gave up. The hint of something he’d found interesting fizzled out and he whizzed back across the office to continue working through his assignments. He felt a little unsettled, so he decided to send Tsukumoya constant links, all of which were rickrolls. After the first one, he heard a small chuckle.

“Mature, Donaghue,” came the reply. And that was more reassuringly snide it seemed almost normal. There was a normal here.

His first day at work was going _swell_.

 

-

 

He went out for lunch. Tsukumoya didn’t move from his computer, not that Hackey would have invited him for lunch anyway. Ha, no way. He wanted to spend as little time in that guy’s company as possible. So he went to Subway, grabbed something to eat and heelied back, running into a red-headed woman on the way back into the office.

“Oh! Sorry!” She looked at him, confused. “Are you new here?”

“Uh...yeah. Quentin. Quentin Donaghue.”

“Ohhh, I remember. We spoke on the phone.” She extended a hand. He shook it awkwardly. “Congratulations on the job. I’ll get your ID badge down to you soon as. You’ll need a photo, come up at about 2 and we can sort that out.” She looked around surreptitiously. “How are things? Any trouble?”

“No, not really.” _Aside_ from his colleague being a prick, no trouble. “I mean, could be worse, right?”

“I’d come down and help you settle in, but there’s things I need to do. And the basement creeps me out. What’s...uh, Shinichi, that’s his name right? What’s he like?”

 _A pain in my ass_ , Hackey thought. “He’s odd. Comes with the territory, I guess.”

“If you have any trouble, whatever, tell me.” She smiled reassuringly and Hackey decided no matter how much he hated Tsukumoya, he hated and distrusted this woman more. “It’s my job to deal with these things. And, well- from what I know of the guy, emails, he’s difficult. Don’t let him give you any trouble.”

“Trust me, I won’t.”

“Good, good. See you later.” The woman waved and walked away, leaving Hackey confused.

He got the elevator down to the basement again. “Have ya even moved since I left?” he asked immediately, Tsukumoya still sat folded up in his chair.

Tsukumoya shrugged. “So you met Kelly?”

“How did ya- _oh you shit_. Ya have access to security cameras?”

“Not officially, no,” Tsukumoya replied casually.

“That’s so fucking shady what the fuck what the actual _fuck_.” Hackey took a bite out of what remained of his sub. “She doesn’t seem to like ya. Guess your winning attitude doesn’t endear you to everyone, huh?”

“Did you tell her?” Tsukumoya asked quietly. “My little misdemeanours, getting you this job?”

Hackey practically choked on a pickle. “I- of course I didn’t, what the fuck do ya think of me?”

“I think you’re a headache who decided we are at war. I think you’d screw anyone over if it suited you. I think that’s precisely something you’d go and do.”

Hackey shook his head vehemently. “Nuh-uh. Snitches get stitches, motherfucker. I fuckin’ hate ya but this is between us. You an’ me. If I get ya fired then it’s all over, ain’t it? I lose my job too.”

“I was under the impression you didn’t really want this job,” remarked Tsukumoya drily.

“Well I...uh, I don’t,” Hackey admitted. “But I’m gonna take every opportunity to piss ya off, rather than just end this quick, yanno?”

Tsukumoya nodded, that ridiculous smirk toying with his lips _ugh could he just stop it already_. “Thank you, Donaghue. Appreciated.”

Hackey squirmed nervously. “Uh well...I didn’t do it for you. I just don’t like Kathy or whatever her name is. Don’t fuckin’ flatter yourself, alright? I still hate ya.”

“After all I’ve done to make you welcome,” Tsukumoya tutted.

Hackey rolled his eyes, but got back to the dead cat seat and actually did work for most of the afternoon, except when he was careening around the office spinning on the chair but that had to be done. One of the wheels caught on a table leg and snapped, depositing him on the floor in a cursing heap of arms and legs.

A hand offered him help up.

He took it without thinking. “Ugh, I think I sprained my ass. Is that possible? ‘Cause I think I did it.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not a medical professional.” Tsukumoya shrugged, moving immediately for a bottle of antibacterial gel in a not-even-subtle display of rudeness. “I hope you learnt your lesson.”

“Yeah,” Hackey acquiesced. “I learnt you’re a massive bitch, this chair is shit, an’ I’m bringing my goddamn gaming chair tomorrow.”

_Tomorrow._

His second day of work.

Was he seriously planning to stick around?

Looking at Tsukumoya’s face, the look of aloof smugness written all over it, yes he absolutely was.

And it absolutely wasn’t because he had a crush.

 

-

 

“It’s absolutely because you have a crush.”

“Fuck _off_ , Doubs!”

Doubs held up his hands defensively. “I’m just saying.”

“Can ya possibly just unsay that?” Hackey groaned. “How many times do I need to say it? I do not have a crush on Tsukumoya. Also I’m moving my gaming chair to the office so I need a new chair.”

Doubs shook his head. “You’ve got it bad.”

“ _You’ve_ got it bad. And by ‘it’ I mean syphilis from the last time ya got laid in Whatever BC.” Hackey stuck his tongue out. “What’s that? Ya don’t have a comeback. One-nil Hackey, I win.”

“Except against Tsukumoya,” Doubs pointed out.

“That’s in progress.” Hackey clenched his fists dramatically. “An’ trust me, I’m goin’ to. I am so goin’ to.”

“I await updates with bated breath.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so do I doubs except I have to fuckin write them so it's much less fun for me innit  
> also the reference to yellow liking a restaurant in ny is a reference to chancellorxofxtrash's fic w Yellow and Luck Gandor which I rly recommend checking out bc IT'S RAD LIKE EVERYTHING SHE FUCKIN DOES SHES FUCKIN RAD LET ME TELL U AS SOMEONE WHO HAS FOUGHT HER PERSONALLY AND GOT HIT, SHE'S FUCKIN QUALITY AND DESERVES A LOT OF APPRECIATION AND STONES THROWN AT HER


	4. The Daily Workplace Shenanigans of Hackey Mouse and Shinichi Tsukumoya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which Tsukumoya is absolutely not at all checking Hackey out on multiple occasions.  
> absolutely not
> 
> this is a shorter chapter but it felt done so I guess it's done.

**Chapter 4 - The Daily Workplace Shenanigans of Hackey Mouse and Shinichi Tsukumoya**

 

While hiring Donaghue had seemed like a foolproof plan at first, as it so happened Donaghue was a fool. He was to reasonable daily operations what the iceberg was to the Titanic, what automated calls were to switchboard operators; a death knell. Everything he did was in the aid of one goal, and that was being an absolute nightmare.

And he succeeded.

On his second day working there, he had his unreasonably expensive gaming chair hauled in by a delivery company. Number of rickrolls - 15. Not counting other songs blared at full volume. 

On his third day, he sprayed silly string across the whole office and somehow managed to break the coffee machine and clog the toilet. Number of rickrolls - 7. Shinichi no longer opened emails from him.

On his fourth day he heelied in with a bottle of vodka and slumped into his gaming chair, waving across the office at Shinichi. Already the area around his workspace was full of tack and leftovers, empty cans of Red Bull and grubby mugs stacked high. The lack of organisation was laughable.

“What’s up ya lonely little- Jesus fuck, do ya ever leave that goddamn chair?” Donaghue was asking, beginning his day at work with a swig of vodka. Something Shinichi knew he could report him for, were he not being blackmailed. It was in his interest to keep Donaghue in work and that was the worst part of it. There was nothing he could do about that. Nothing.

“Are you sure 9am’s the right time for alcohol, Donaghue? Daydrinking isn’t actually lauded in most workplaces, this one included.”

“What are ya gonna do, report me?” Donaghue scoffed. “We both know ya can’t.” He coughed awkwardly. “And uh...it’s water anyway. I refilled the bottle.”

Shinichi chuckled. “That is the precise definition of tragic. I’m so sorry this is your life.”

“Yeah?” Donaghue swivelled on his chair, arms folded stubbornly. “Well, at least I get out. Yanno, not often, an’ mostly just the journey here an’ home again, but that counts for somethin’ right? I saw sunlight like, once. It sucked, but I still  _ saw _ it, with my own two shitty short-sighted eyes. I’m not a total vampire. I’ve never seen you leave this office. You’re always here when I arrive, an’ ya stay late. Do ya live here or what?”

“Yes. I actually sleep in the cupboard,” Shinichi said truthfully, but with a dry enough tone that he sounded 110% sarcastic. 

Donaghue groaned. “See, shit like this is why ya have no friends.”

“I have friends. You, however, are not one of them.” He gestured up at the basement window. “And I do see sunlight, on occasion. About as often as you, I’d wager.”

“Who’d be friends with you?” Donaghue scoffed. “They’d have to be a massive bitch.”

He thought of Orihara, who he wouldn’t exactly call a friend. He thought of Kujiragi, with whom he couldn’t exactly put a name to their relationship. He thought of various others he’d either in person or in passing online. “Yes,” he agreed. “They are.”

“Huh.” Donaghue didn’t seem to expect him to agree. He leaned back dramatically, stretching out like a cat. “I’m so fuckin’ bored, God. How long have I been here?”

“You just arrived.”

“Ugggggh,” Donaghue whined, childish as ever. “I wish this  _ was _ vodka. Kill me now.” He dragged himself up to his feet, long limbs gangling and slouching. He was considerably taller than Shinichi, gawky and awkward. One thing Shinichi  _ had _ learnt about him was that he had no personal space, leaning in so close Shinichi could almost count his freckles. One, two, three. Constellations on his face. Absently Shinichi wondered how far the freckles went, then wondered why he wondered that. Curiosity, probably. Nothing more. It wasn’t like he truly wanted to see. He’d never seen anyone with so many freckles before, that was all.

“What’s that ya got there?” His thoughts were interrupted by Donaghue, indicating Shinichi’s tea.

“Jasmine chai. Sweetened with honey.” Soon as the words had left his lips, Donaghue was already sipping it, without even asking.

“Tastes fuckin’ gross.” He pulled a face.

“That’s because you’re an uncultured American,” Shinichi replied bluntly.

“ _ Rude _ . I’m very fuckin’ cultured indeed. I’m a Harvard drop-out, yanno.”

“I did know. I read your original resume.”

Donaghue grinned like the jackass he was. “An’ ya had me hired anyway.”

“And I’ve been regretting it ever since,” he remarked. “I was still cleaning up silly string at midnight.”

“The fuck were ya still doing here at midnight?” Donaghue narrowed his eyes. “I’m beginning to think ya are stealin’ from the company.”

“Think what you like.” Shrugging, Shinichi sipped his tea. “Now if you don’t mind getting back to your side of the office before I start playing dot-to-dot with your freckles.”

“Bitch,” muttered Donaghue, but surprisingly obliged. “Gonna have to fight you to the death after work. It’s fuckin’ on.”

“You say that a lot. All talk, Donaghue. You never deliver.” He set about disinfecting the areas Donaghue had touched, methodically tidying his own workspace. He didn’t notice his colleague watching him, but when he glanced up he saw Donaghue’s gaze fixed intently on him. Their eyes met, and Donaghue reddened, looking away, blushing furiously.

“What’s- uh, what’s with the hygiene thing?” Donaghue asked, spluttering slightly. Shinichi smirked; it was amusing to watch him floundering and fumbling for words. “Kinda obsessive, dude?”

“My parents were very obsessive,” Shinichi replied, “Very being an understatement here. They say we all become our parents to a degree. Though I’d dispute that, certain habits are learnt.”

“I fuckin’ hope not.” Donaghue scowled. “My parents can go die in a hole. If I never saw ‘em again it’d be too soon.”

“Yes, well. I left the country for a reason.” He didn’t hate his parents, nor did he wish anything bad upon them. They were just overbearing. They worried; he couldn’t fault them that. It was only natural. Still, he’d received the job offer and jumped at the chance and sometimes he felt guilty at how little guilt he felt for leaving.

“No offence, but that’s real fuckin’ extra. This is practically the other side of the world. Who does that?”

“Me,” Shinichi replied and settled down to another day of ignoring Donaghue’s antics and trying to work without interruption. An impossible challenge these days. Sometimes the interruptions weren’t altogether unwelcome; after dealing with a whole host of idiots who’d forgotten their passwords in a row, for instance he might look over at Donaghue and smirk as his colleague repeatedly banged his head against his desk, screaming expletives.

Lunchtime came around and, as war becoming routine, Donaghue stood up to go get lunch. This time, however, he stopped.

“He, ya wanna grab somethin’? I mean, ya want me to grab somethin’ for ya? You’ll have to pay me back for it, though.”

“Sure. I’d like a wrap, please. If it’s not too much trouble. Preferably chicken.”

“Gotcha. Promise I won’t poison it.”

“Seems legit,” Shinichi replied. He glanced down at the tupperware box of udon noodles he’d prepared for lunch and put them away. 

He’d eat them later instead.

Never look a gift horse in the mouth, after all. 

Even if that gift horse was Quentin Donaghue

 

-

 

After that, Donaghue often offered to fetch food, for a price of course. He stayed late on his second Wednesday and they ordered pizza, insisting he was in it for the overtime payments. Thursday it was Indian, Friday Chinese.

It wasn’t like they had a routine.

“Morning, ya lonely little fuck,” Donaghue would say, then launch into a list of complaints against his roommate or his friends or Shinichi himself. Shinichi indulged him.

He tried making tea once. Shinichi resolved to never let that happen again. 

Fridays became movie nights; they finished their caseload late, and would borrow one of the portable projectors to crash and watch something, ‘watch’ being a debatable term, what with Donaghue throwing popcorn at him the whole time. He came in on Saturday once, claiming he’d got days mixed up but that didn’t explain why he stuck around for four hours blasting Russian synthpop.

He became a fixture, and soon his first employee review came around. In that first month (had it only been one month? How would he survive?) there was enough to not only get him fired but to burn any future career prospects to the ground. Shinichi could probably hold onto his own job in the aftermath of Donaghue’s dismissal. He could gamble, and would likely win. 

He put in a glowingly positive review.

Firing him would be tantamount to a surrender in their war, and he wasn’t prepared to do that after all.

And perhaps he was growing used to the company after all, though he’d never admit it.

Donaghue was baffled. “What the fuck, man? The fuck is this shit?” He slammed the employee report down on Shinichi’s desk, prodding him hard in the chest. “Not only did ya talk me up, ya recommended me for a pay rise. What happened to getting me fired soon as?”

“Plans change, Donaghue. Is it too unbelievable to imagine I might want you to stick around?”

That stumped him. “I- yes, yes actually it is. Ya make it very clear how much ya hate me. An’ besides, I’m an asshole.”

“That is true. Would you like me to amend my report and explain that in depth? No? Then don’t complain.”

“Bitch, I will complain ‘til hell freezes over an’ then I’ll complain ‘bout how cold it is. Got it?” Shinichi nodded and Donaghue flounced back to his seat. “Man, I don’t get ya. I really don’t.”

“Why do you feel the need to try?”

Silence. An aimless shrug. “Dunno. ‘Cause I’m a fuckin’ idiot, apparently.”

“Glad we can agree on something.” Shinichi smirked.

“ _ Bitch _ !” Donaghue retorted. “Wipe that fuckin’ look off your pretty-ass face. Ya don’t deserve to look like that to begin with, I’m tellin’ ya now. It’s unfair. So quit smirking and give the rest of us a chance.”

“Was that a compliment, Donaghue?”

His colleague went red, spluttering like he was wont to when embarrassed. “No it was fuckin’ not, ya tiny little assfuck. Pretty is absolutely an insult. If ya thought I was complimentin’ ya, it’s ‘cause your English sucks. Yanno what else sucks?”

“I can guess,” Shinichi remarked drily, a distinct sense of deja-vu setting in.

“Your mom, right, ‘cause she sucks so much dick. Your mom.” He was still blushing furiously, freckles disappearing in the flush of his cheeks.

Shinichi wondered how far the blush went, how many more freckle-constellations it clouded. Then wondered why he’d wondered that, why he was thinking about Donaghue, the least poetic man he knew, in such poetic terms.

He looked away.

And got back to work.

 

-

 

He left the office. 

If he wanted to get a taxi, it’d cost a lot from there across town. So he had to get public transport, which was fine. It wasn’t like they were breeding grounds for disease, was it? At least, not for anyone with a normal, functioning immune system that made antibodies like they should.

It’d be fine. He’d wear a dust mask on the subway and try not to touch anything. It could, he reminded himself, always be worse. There were patients who couldn’t leave sterilised environments, there were patients with his own condition who experienced complications and autoimmune disorders, lung diseases, organ damage. He had always been remarkably lucky.

He’d have his injection, general check-up to make sure none of the complications had decided it was time to make a surprise appearance, and then spend the rest of the day crashing. He wasn’t looking forward to the side-effects, which always wore him out.

Donaghue would be arriving in the office soon.

He wondered what he’d think when he found Shinichi absent, presumed missing. Would he worry?

Unlikely. 

He’d be back soon, anyway.

Even if he would be rather worse for wear.

 

-

 

_ Tsukumoya was gone. _

**_Time to panic._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so much googling about immunodeficiency disorders  
> so much  
> (the one I've gone with is CVID if you wanted to know, it's not like the most severe but it's still p shitty if ur wandering around w a compromised immune system like..that sucks)


	5. In Which Shit Does Not Get Gay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pre-warning: shit gets gay

**Chapter 5 - In Which Shit Does Not Get Gay**

  


“Where are you off to?” Doubs barely looked up from his laptop, lounging back on the sofa with sunglasses on - indoors.

“What the shit are ya wearin’, Doubs?” He was wearing glimmeringly iridescent trousers and a rainbow shirt. And bunny slippers Hackey had bought him as a joke one time. Not to mention sunglasses indoors and a casual top hat. Honestly, Hackey shouldn’t have been surprised. This was just how Doubs liked to dress. “Ya look like a lost circus clown. All ya need is the nose.”

“I used to be in the circus,” Doubs remarked absently. “I can confirm this is not how the clowns dressed.”

“Yeah, you’ve said, only a thousand-and-one fuckin’ times. What kinda shitty-ass circus was it? A bullshit one made up of lies?” Hackey waved his arms madly. “Look in a fuckin’ mirror already.”

“Can’t. I don’t have a reflection.” Doubs grinned, his reflection clearly present in the TV. He looked like a jackass. “You never used to complain about my pyjamas.”

Hackey snatched Doubs’ coffee so he could spit it out dramatically. “Ya never used to dress like that to bed, bitch. If ya had I woulda gone runnin’ to campus security an’ reported ya for crimes against fashion.”

“Wouldn’t that be turning yourself in too?”

“Fuck you, I have impeccable taste,” Hackey snapped, proudly admiring his shirt that had ‘MEME TRASH’ written on it. It was indisputably his best shirt, no matter what bitches like Doubs and Tsukumoya said.

God did he hate Tsukumoya. Had he mentioned that already? Because he fucking did.

“You haven’t answered. Where are you off to at this hour? Morning, even. It’s Saturday.”

“I know that!” Hackey retorted. “I’m going into work to rave to Russian synthpop and give that obnoxiously pretty asshat a migraine. ‘Cause fuck him, amirite?”

Doubs shook his head in amazement. “You don’t say.” His grin turned wicked. “Fuck him, is it? No subtext there. Never mind you don’t get up til noon, you’re going into work on the weekend for the sole purpose of annoying a guy you absolutely aren’t obsessed with. Seems legit.”

Hackey flipped him off. “What about you? What’s your excuse for being up at this the ungodly hour of twenty-past eight?”

“I haven’t slept in two days,” replied Doubs, looking a little too pleased by that admission.

“Fuckin’ disgustin’. You’re a filthy animal, Doubs Hewley. Seeya later. Places to be, an’ all that jazz.”

“Coworkers to _do_.”

He left quickly, before Doubs could see him blush and further take the piss. It was an involuntary action caused by being naturally ginger, nothing more. Didn’t mean shit.

He _hated_ Tsukumoya. And Tsukumoya hated him, Hackey made sure of it. With four hours of Russian synthpop.

And the bastard barely reacted to it. Not even a flicker.

 _Son-of-a-bitch_.

 

-

 

It wasn’t that he looked forward to work, absolutely not, never. His job was awful, fixing stupid fuck-ups nobody with even half a brain cell would make. People locking themselves out of their PCs, people trying to torrent porn during work hours. He’d never believed that blog about working in tech support but now he’d learnt his lesson. It was as bad as you could imagine and worse.

At least there was Tsukumoya. That is, his war with Tsukumoya. Not the guy himself.

One day before the employee review; what Hackey assumed would be his last day on the job. There was no way Tsukumoya would let all this bullshit slide. It’d go down in flames. Hackey would almost miss it. Movie nights, pizza, the way things were right now.

 

[HackeyMouse]: cant believe im about to get fired lol  
[Indigohome]: What did you do now?  
[Yellooooo]: awwwww what happened to ur beautiful romance??? :(  
[HackeyMouse]: stfu its the 1st employee review tmr. even tsukumoya won’t wanna keep me around  
[Indigohome]: True, that. We don’t want to keep you around either, but we do.  
[Yellooooo]: i thought he was madly in love. Did he finally realise what a fuck you are?  
[HackeyMouse]: fuck knows. he hasnt had any human emotions in years. im not even convinced hes human  
  


 **IridescentExtra has joined the chat  
**  

[HackeyMouse]: o fuck no  
[Yellooooo]: the greatest evil of this age returns  
[IridescentExtra]: And there I was thinking you’d be happy to see me. How rude.  
[MrCAPITALIST]: YOU RANG?  
[HackeyMouse]: jfc r u ever gonna quit using that pun  
[MrCAPITALIST]: NEVER  
[MrCAPITALIST]: I WAS GIFTED WITH A NAME UNIQUELY SUITED TO THE ART OF PUNNAGE. PLUS IT PISSES YOU GUYS OFF.  
[IridescentExtra]: I want to ask why you’re only speaking in caps lock now but I have a feeling I know what the answer’s going to be.  
[MrCAPITALIST]: I’M GLAD YOU ASKED.  
[HackeyMouse]: im not  
[MrCAPITALIST]: BECAUSE I’M A CAPITALIST. GET IT? GET IT? GOD I’M HILARIOUS  
[Yellooooo]: that is the worst joke I’ve heard all day.  
[TheViscousViscount]: Well, I found it funny.  
[MrCAPITALIST]: THANK YOU GERHARDT. SOMEONE APPRECIATES ME.  
[HackeyMouse]: bitch hes a dad. ofc he appreciates your terrible jokes. nobody else does tho. nobody. ever.  
[IridescentExtra]: Are you sure you’re not doing this because you got the caps lock stuck again?  
[MrCAPITALIST]:....YES  
[IridescentExtra]: Convincing.  
[HackeyMouse]: bout as convincing as the time ya tried to convince us ya own a fuckin t-rex  
[MrCAPITALIST]: I ABSOLUTELY DO. WHY WOULD I LIE ABOUT THAT?  
[HackeyMouse]: bc ur a shady rich guy and thats all ya do. when the revolution comes ya will be the first against the wall  
[IridescentExtra]: shouldn’t you be at work?

 

“Can ya believe this guy?” Hackey shook his head in disbelief. “Shouldn’t ya be in work infuckingdeed. Where does he fuckin’ think I am right now?”

“The Bahamas?” Tsukumoya suggested, making a show of typing loudly. “Judging by the amount of actual work you do, that’d be my guess.”

“You’re literally-” he glanced over at Tsukumoya’s screen to see what he was doing. “What the fuck, you’re literally playing Breath of the Wild under your desk WHAT THE SHIT, MAN?”

“It’s a good game,” Tsukumoya retorted testily.

“I mean, fair,” Hackey conceded. “Still. Fuckin’ hypocrite. You’re worse’n Doubs.”

“What exactly is your history with Mr Hewley?” Tsukumoya asked curiously. “You seem to be...close.”

“What, ya jelly?” Hackey teased, and saw his coworkers eyes widen and he looked away. “Jokin’, don’t get your panties in a twist. Nah, we were in college together. Roommates. I’d just dropped out of Harvard, he’d scammed his way in with no qualifications. Like, he ran away to the circus as a teenager an’ never finished high school, an’ I uh - ditched my family too. We just clicked. Both absolute jackasses, yanno? Been friends ever since.” He shrugged. “I dunno. We argue, we bitch, but when my parents cut me off an’ said they wanted nothin’ more to do with me, he let me crash at his place. Now we got an apartment together an’ everythin’.”

“Are you - I don’t mean to intrude, but are you together?”

“Wowowowow ya nosey bitch.” Hackey coughed. “Nah, I mean - no. We fooled around in college after a few, I guess, but I uh...kinda suck at this kinda thing. I need a lot of alcohol in me. An’ then the next morning I’m too fuckin’ awkward to talk about it. Feelings an’ shit. They can piss off. But nah, I don’t feel like that about Doubs. He’s just a - a fuckin’ problem. That’s about it really.” He squirmed under Tsukumoya’s dark gaze.

“He seems...interesting.”

“That’s him. I’m never letting the two of ya meet, let me tell ya that now,” Hackey muttered. “So what about you? Any, I dunno, boyfriends, girlfriends, fuckbuddies, friends-with-benefits, exes of any description?”

“Why?” Tsukumoya raised a single eyebrow. “Are you-”

Hackey felt his cheeks burn. “It’s called small talk, ya pathetic little messman. They have that under whatever rock ya crawled out of?”

“I may be aware of the concept, yes,” Tsukumoya replied drily. “And yes.”

“Yes what?” Hackey asked, exasperated.

“Yes, I have had exes. There was someone - not exactly an ex, honestly. It’s not exactly an anything. I didn’t agree with everything she did, it was sketchy. She transferred to a rival company with stolen data, corporate sabotage. And I may have-” he cut off, sighing deeply. “She may have pinned the theft on me.”

“What the _fuck_ , Tsukumoya? That’s like some fuckin’ TV drama shit right there. Why’d you even date her?”

“We didn’t exactly date. We spoke in person only a handful of times, mostly we interacted online. She was ambitious. She _is_ ambitious, has her own priorities. Sometimes people don’t factor into them. To begin with part of me felt sorry for her. She’d had a hard time as a child; she was trafficked, broke free on her own. This turned into a...semi-rivalry between us. It was complicated.”

“That sounds so fuckin’ dysfunctional oh my God do ya even know how relationships work?”

“Do _you_?” Tsukumoya shot back pointedly.

Hackey scowled. “You’re a bitch. I see why she framed you. What was - uh, I mean - what’s her name?”

“Kasane. That is, Kujiragi. Kasane Kujiragi.”

“That’s fuckin’ cool. I mean, not cool she screwed ya over but cool name, right?” Hackey sucked at being comforting. Normally he didn’t bother trying so he was out of practise. “I’m sorry?”

Tsukumoya glanced over at him. “Are you being _nice_? This is unprecedented.”

Hackey sank into his seat, not wanting Tsukumoya to see his face. He cursed the ginger genes that made him redden so easily. That was clearly the problem, not any underlying emotion. “So what if I was? I took pity on ya, that’s all. Serves me right for being nice to a bitch like you.” He looked back over at Tsukumoya. “I _am_ sorry, yanno? Like, you’re fuckin’ intolerable but ya didn’t deserve that.”

“Thank you,” Tsukumoya said quietly.

“Don’t mention it. No really, never mention this again. Can’t have people knowin’ I showed sympathy, it’d ruin my stellar reputation.”

He heard Tsukumoya smirk and felt a lot better. He didn’t like it when Tsukumoya wasn’t being a sarcastic prick. It wasn’t right.

Wouldn’t be his concern much longer; not that it concerned him now. Tomorrow was the employee review. Tomorrow was his last day at work, no doubt about it.

Except it wasn’t.

 

-

 

“I don’t fuckin’ get it, Doubs. Why would he do that? What’s his game plan?”

Doubs ignored him and continued with his crochet (??? what the fuck was he doing?) “Maybe he’s as into you as you are him.”

Hackey seized the needles to prod Doubs with them as hard as he could. “Real fuckin’ original. You’re a shining wit. Trust me, if ya ever met him, ya wouldn’t even think that. He genuinely despises me.”

“You should invite him round,” Doubs remarked, producing more needles from thin air with an elaborate wave of his fingers, to continue his work. “We might get along. A lot to talk about.” The innocent smile on Doubs’ face was so untrustworthy and wicked it probably broke world records for most traitorous bastard.

“You are never allowed to meet him. Ever. And like, I don’t wanna invite him round. Ew. Gross.”

“Scared of getting cooties?”

“If I could afford to move out I would,” Hackey muttered, slouching into his room and leaving Doubs to whatever the fuck he was doing. In the end, he was only coaxed out by promise of Chinese takeout, and it turned out the crochet was for a new magic trick he’d been working on. They didn’t talk about Tsukumoya anymore.

Why would they? He wasn’t particularly important to Hackey. He was just an ever-present pain in the ass. Constant.

Right up until he wasn’t there.

 

-

 

Hackey rushed into work the next day, lowkey pleased he’d kept his job if it meant he got to show off his masterpiece. Back in high school he’d personally made an edited version of Kill Bill, wherein everything was exactly the same except the sirens were ten times as loud as they should be. He could have replaced them with anything, with off-key kazoo or Rick Astley, but that was too obvious. He’d contemplated something along the lines of ‘Fuck you (very, very much)’ or some such, but in the end he’d opted for this. The sheer shit-yourself horror when you weren’t expecting it was a thing to behold. Even Tsukumoya couldn’t remain all aloof and distant in the face of that onslaught.

Hackey couldn’t wait to see his face.

“Morning, ya lonely little-” he trailed off, words dying where they were.

Tsukumoya wasn’t there.

_Time to panic._

Had he been found out? Had they fired him? Why did that prospect scare him so much? Was he just in the bathroom, even he needed to shit right? The bathroom was empty. Was he in the permanently-locked supply cupboard? Hackey tried picking the lock but he wasn’t a notorious delinquent like Doubs, he couldn’t get it open.

Fuck, he wasn’t there. Hackey’s heart raced, panic flooding him. He ran upstairs, straight into Martin’s office without knocking.

“Heyyyy Martin, morning, how are ya yada yada yada listen I was wondering where the fu-” His eyes wandered to the swear jar. “Where’s Shinichi Tsukumoya?”

Kelly stared at him blankly. “Not Martin.”

“Sorry? What I asked stands though. Where is he?”

“You could learn to knock too.” She folded her arms testily.

“Sorry. Uh...anything else I should apologise for? Wanna get ‘em out of the way before I ask where my pain-in-the-a- neck, _neck_ coworker’s apparated to.”

“He took the day off for medical reasons,” Kelly replied flatly. “No, I can’t tell you why, because I don’t know why. It’s confidential.”

If Hackey thought he was panicking before, he really hadn’t known the meaning of the phrase. “Is he sick? Is there something wrong?”

“Like I said, I wouldn’t know. What part of confidential do you not understand?”

“Brave words for a woman who kept trying to insert the USB the wrong way,” Hackey shot back, before turning and heelie-ing out as quickly as he’d come in.

Fuck.

 _Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_ …

What the shit did medical reasons mean? Was that, like, a cold, or literally dying?

 _Probably nothing_ , he told himself. _It’ll be fine_.

What about watching Kill Bill vol. Loud? That’d have to wait for another day. After a few minutes pacing, Hackey collapsed into his seat. He could dick around all day without reprimand. Wasn’t it perfect? Wasn’t this the heaven he’d always wanted?

It felt hollow without someone there to bicker with. There wasn’t any point. He stood up suddenly and rushed over to Tsukumoya’s side of the office to search for clues. Everything was meticulously tidy, on the surface at least. Under the desk, piles of games, comics, manga, notebooks, snacks and other boxes of assorted junk resided, proving he was a nerdy little hypocrite underneath it all, just as bad and disorganised as Hackey in the end.  But there were no signs where he might have gone. He’d just vanished.

Medical reasons.

What the shit did that mean?

He decided to ask the chat and had typed most of it when the door opened with a creek. An exhausted-looking, half-dead Tsukumoya hauled himself in, limbs heavy and exhausted. His face was flushed and dripping with sweat as he collapsed into his stupid egg chair.

Hackey leapt to his feet, fell over because heelies, then hurriedly bolted over to his side. “Dude, what the fuck? I thought ya had the day off.”

“I do,” Tsukumoya croaked. “I’m taking it here.”

“Uh-huh, no ya ain’t. Get your ass home right now, ya look like shit.”

Tsukumoya smirked, but he didn’t look ridiculously pretty now. Just sick, feverish and woozy. Jesus, what was his problem? Why was he here?

“Technically I am,” Tsukumoya mumbled, shivering and pulling his cardigan around himself. “Seeing as I live in the cupboard.”

Hackey grabbed his shoulders, getting right up in his face without a second thought about infection. “Cut it out, man. This ain’t the time for any of your crap.”

“No, really,” Tsukumoya laughed hoarsely. “I rent it. Cheaper than an apartment.” Hackey must have still been staring at him dubiously because he produced a key and gestured for him to go and see.

The key turned in the lock.

The door opened.

Inside, there was a futon, an array of blankets, clothes hung up, ironing board folded in the corner...an entire life shoved into the confined space. Dumbstrack, Hackey looked back at Tsukumoya, who somehow managed to look smug while barely even alive. _Such_ a headache.

“Ya sonuvabitch, I don’t fuckin’ believe ya. All this time I was wondering how ya got in an’ out without being seen an’ ya were livin’ in the fuckin’ cupboard. Fuckin’ tragic. Is that even allowed?”

“It’s in my contract,” Tsukumoya managed, clearly pleased with himself, hoarse as he was. “This was all discussed with the manager and agreed upon then.”

“He just lets you stay in the building overnight? You’re telling me I’m commuting for nothing?”

“He lets me stay in the building with full access to security systems...emails, passwords, camera access, alarms...everything. Now do you get it?”

Hackey did. “You’re a spy. You’re a fucking corporate spy.” Tsukumoya nodded weakly. “What the fucking fuck on a fuckstick - what? Why are ya tellin’ me this?”

He saw Tsukumoya muster up a lazy smile. “Who’s going to believe you?”

“Nobody,” Hackey cursed. “You’re the fuckin’ worst. Can’t believe I was worried about you.” Soon as the words had left his mouth he regretted it. Even sick, Tsukumoya was too quick on the uptake, too sharp.

“You were worried?” Tsukumoya’s voice was faint, quavering with surprise.

Hackey couldn’t look at him, scooped up in his egg chair, tiny and adorable and uncertain, tentative, almost afraid. Just couldn’t. He shrugged self-consciously. “Wasted on you.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, whatever, no problem.” Hackey waved it off casually but felt a confused rush of feelings he couldn’t name. Goddammit, why was he such a mess?

“Hackey?” He didn’t even register his name at first, so unused to it coming from his stubborn coworker. When Tsukumoya did call him that, it was always mocking. Not small and quiet and barely audible. Nope. Never.

How dare he do this now? How dare he make Hackey feel real human emotion? Uncalled for.

“Yeah?” Hackey asked, too worried to take the piss.

“Could you maybe fetch a blanket? _Please_?”

So that was how they ended up curled up in a blanket fort on the floor, Tsukumoya leaning into Hackey even though there was a pillow right there.

He was staying late, he guessed.

His coworker was sleeping on his chest.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” he groaned.

They’d have to watch Kill Bill vol. Loud tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hackey is in wayyyyyy too deep  
> took me so long to figure out what to do w Kujiragi for this au. But I'm happy w the direction I've gone so eyyy


	6. The Hand Requisitions Department is a Very Real Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> v serious. v legit.  
> happy and funtimes

**Chapter 6 - The Hand Requisitions Department is a Very Real Thing**

 

Gradually, Shinichi blinked himself awake, yawning and stretching and finding he was resting on Donaghue’s chest. He bolted upright. His colleague was asleep, snoring profusely, multi-coloured hair a mess, glasses still on. He was sprawled out, long limbs tangled up, one of his arms absolutely not holding Shinichi close. Faintly he remembered last night, falling into the pillow fort foggy and exhausted. Aside from that, nothing had happened between them. He had no idea what to class  _ this _ as.

His fever had passed. The after-effects of his jab had worn off. Emerging from the pillow fort, he went through to the bathroom and cleaned himself up, picking out clean clothes and getting read for a day at work. He made himself tea and checked his watch. Shit, it was late. Already 9:45. He’d slept in. By all rights, he should wake Donaghue for their day at work to begin, but a swift glance was enough to establish he was just too cute to disturb. So, like the generous person he was, he graciously allowed Donaghue to lie in way into the afternoon, conducting both of their shares of work until then. Sometimes he looked back at his coworker and felt a tug of something in his heart that was scarily akin to actual emotions. Was that a side-effect of having a functional immune system? God, Shinichi hoped not.

He was midway through lunch when he heard rustling from the fort, followed closely by muffled swearing and the pillows collapsing inwards suddenly. More cursing. He watched in amusement as Donaghue’s head emerged from the pile of bedding, prime irritation written all over his face. He adjusted his glasses and glared over at Shinichi, pointing an accusatory finger.

“You...ya motherfucker, ya weren’t where I left ya. Nearly gave me a fuckin’ heart attack.” He scowled. “‘Specially after yesterday. Man, what the shit was up with ya yesterday? Almost had me worried.” Concern was written all over his face, attempts at disguising it proving futile. “Are ya okay?”

Shinichi nodded. “Much better, thank you Donaghue. Appreciated.”

Donaghue folded his arms stubbornly. “Yea, yea, whatever. Not that I really care. If you’ve given me the Black Death now I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ya.”

“I highly doubt it was bubonic plague,” Shinichi remarked drily. “I wouldn’t fret. It’s not contagious.”

“Now how do ya know that?” Donaghue asked sharply. “How can ya be sure?”

“First off, because bubonic plague is rare in modern day American and would have proven fatal to me. Second, I know I’m not contagious because the symptoms began after an injection.”

“Like, a vaccine?” Shinichi nodded. Donaghue pulled a face. “Careful, don’t wanna be makin’ yourself more fuckin’ autistic than ya already are.” Shinichi glared. “Joke, joke, I know that’s not how anything works. An’ before ya say shit, I’m allowed to make autism jokes, ‘cause we all know I’m on the fuckin’ spectrum. God, where is your sense of humour?”

“Confiscated at customs.”

“What, not allowed aboard planes? Too fuckin’ awful? Why am I not surprised?” Donaghue hauled himself to his feet and stumbled over to the coffee machine. “Ya absolutely sure you’re okay? Asking for a friend.”

“Really, I’m fine. I just...haven’t got the greatest immune system in the world.”  _ Understatement of the century.  _ “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Bitch…” Donaghue spluttered with indignation. “When did I say I was worried? I didn’t. I’m not. Never have been, never will be. So ya can take your don’t worry and shove it up your ass, ‘cause I’ll do what I like an’ ya don’t tell me what to do.” He sipped his coffee, burning his mouth and spitting it everywhere. “Uggggggh. God. I’m not awake enough for this.”

“I know what’ll wake you up,” Shinichi said, tossing a bottle of soy sauce at his head. “Chugging soy sauce always helps.”

“Really?” Donaghue looked dubious, but started to unscrew the lid. Shinichi rolled his eyes.

“No, not really. Do not chug soy sauce. Or, you know, you’ll die?”

“Pretty sure that’s not how soy sauce works.”

“Yes it is. It’s the salt content. It’s too high so if you chug it it could kill you, right?”

Donaghue eyed him. “The question there makes me think you’re talkin’ out your ass.”

“And there I was thinking I was talking with my mouth.”

“You’re such a bitch,” muttered Donaghue, but he was grinning. He collapsed in his gaming chair and spent pretty much the rest of the day spinning around repeatedly. Shinichi watched him and felt that warmth in his chest again, like he  _ cared _ about this problem child. He probably did. Cared so much, he sent him link after link about sodium overdoses until he conceded that yes, it was possible to die after drinking neat soy sauce. Then he bitched about Shinichi looking annoyingly smug.

At the end of the day’s work, Donaghue was heading home. He glanced back. “Ya sure you’ll be okay, livin’ in your fuckin’ cupboard?”

“Not that you care, or anything? Are you turning all tsundere on me?” Shinichi asked, somewhat mockingly.

Donaghue stormed up to him in a second, grabbing his collar and pulling him close so their faces were almost touching. “Fuck you, assfuck. I have to see your bitchy face every single day without fail, so excuse me if I give a single percentage of a fraction of a fuck about you. An’ you ain’t exactly reassuring. Ya live in a  _ cupboard _ , ya don’t exactly get out, an’ I don’t know shit about you but what I do know is enough to worry a guy. I don’t wanna come in again an’ wonder if somethin’ happened to ya, where ya are. Just...tell me if you’re gonna go somewhere. Message me. Ya found me online once, right, ya can find me again? Alright?”

That was Donaghue admitting he cared about him, in his roundabout, obnoxious way that could be endearing when it wasn’t an absolute headache. It wasn’t like he’d been subtle, but it was nice to get some confirmation where that was concerned. Donaghue cared. 

_ Hackey  _ cared.

Shinichi still thought that was a ridiculous name and didn’t intend to use it with any regularity. 

“Alright,” Shinichi nodded. “I’ll make sure to schedule my medical appointments with Dr Hackey.”

“I hate you so much,” Hackey groaned and walked out quickly. 

Not quickly enough for his red face to escape Shinichi’s attention.

Maybe he would call him Hackey more frequently after all.

 

-

 

Later that evening he went online and found the account of one ‘Hackey Mouse’ and hesitated, thinking over what to say that would look casual and calm, and anything but...well, desperate. In the end, he managed to come up with a plausible excuse why he’d be messaging his awful coworker, voluntarily initiating conversation.

See, as it so happened, he’d left a DVD back at the office.

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_   
I take it ‘Kill Bill vol. Loud is yours?

 

_Hackey Mouse_   
ffs that was supposed to be a surprise

 

_Hackey Mouse_   
we were gonna watch it yesterday but noooooo u had to get sick

 

_Hackey Mouse_   
fuckin bitch

 

Shinichi snorted. Donaghue- Hackey, whatever - was exactly the same as always. An acquired taste for sure.

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_  
I’m so sorry to inconvenience your truly malevolent plans. We can contact my immune system and see if it’ll reconsider its stance on illness for the sake of Tarantinos.

 

_Hackey Mouse_  
do it

 

_Hackey Mouse_  
tell it its for a good cause

 

_Hackey Mouse_  
of memes

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_  
I’m sure it’ll be forced to concede in the face of such an overwhelming argument.

 

_Hackey Mouse_  
damn right

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_   
We can always watch it tomorrow.

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_   
...by any chance, are the sirens edited to ten times the usual volume?

 

_Hackey Mouse_   
absolutely not why would ya ever think that of me

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_   
I wonder. What possible reason would I have to suspect such a thing of you, of all people?

 

_Hackey Mouse_   
ha fuckin ha lose the sarcasm already its not big or clever

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi_   
Are you sure? I was proud of it.

 

_Hackey Mouse_ **  
** ofc ya were

 

_Hackey Mouse **  
**_ of fuckin course

 

_Hackey Mouse_ **  
** i hate u so much

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi **  
**_ :) :) :) :) :)

 

_Hackey Mouse **  
**_ ur such a prick

 

_Tsukumoya Shinichi **  
**_ ilu2 xxx

 

-

 

They ended up talking late into the night. Neither of them wanted to be the first to fail at coming up with a comeback. Neither of them wanted to admit defeat, scrabbling desperately to get the last word in. It was fun. A trainwreck, yes. But fun. 

He’d almost say they were friends.

Were they? Did this count? He hoped so. 

It’d be his first friend in America in the entire three years he’d been here. His first real friend in general in a while. That made him sound sad and lonely, which he wasn’t. It wasn’t like he’d missed any company or felt isolated.

Nonetheless, he appreciated the connection. It meant something.

He wasn’t sure what.

_ Something _ , that was all.

Something.

 

-

 

Sometimes when they were working, Hackey would get calls. Being the consummate professional he was, he always took them, bitching loudly at whichever of his friends had called to interrupt him. Once he muttered ‘Jesus Christ, Mirald, take your fuckin’ medication’ and then hung up (to be fair to him, he did call another friend immediately after to explain the situation and tell him to go check on this Mirald person, so he wasn’t as much of a dick as that initially sounded). Another time he shrieked ‘screw you Doubs Hewley, screw you to the moon an’ back’, on loop, for like twenty minutes. Shinichi printed off a few passive-aggressive signs about taking personal calls at work, but that just made his problem child of a coworker louder and more overt about it. He’d prank call his friends, turning them swiftly into enemies.  At this point, Shinichi wasn’t sure why anyone picked up the phone anymore. Or called him. Or voluntarily came into any contact with him at all.

Yes, this included himself.

Except one day something weird happened. Hackey’s phone rang and he reached for it absently, glanced at Caller ID and then just... _ froze _ . Completely tensed up. He was staring at his cellphone and not moving whatsoever, until suddenly he shook his head and rejected the call. Sighing, he slouched into his seat, looking very lost and afraid. The phone rang again. Hackey didn’t move.

Shinichi had no idea who it could possibly be, but he headed over without thinking, picked up the phone and, in his most affected Japanese accent, said, “Hello? You have reach the Golden Frog takeout, what is your order?”

“Quentin, you’re not fooling anyone!” a harsh female voice came. “We need to talk-”

“Oh, you have wrong number,” Shinichi said. “No Quentin. You want place order anyway? There is special offer, $10 family order. Ramen? Best ramen in the state.”

“Who  _ are  _ you? Where is Quentin?” The woman didn’t sound amused, whoever she was.

“Cannot help. Very sorry. You like curry? We make curry, very good curry, best curry. Bargain prices. You place order?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, I’m his  _ mother _ ,” she hissed. “I know he’s there!”

“If you are not order, I hang up,” Shinichi warned. “Goodbye. Good luck with your find Nemo.”

“Quentin,” the woman corrected. “Put Quentin on immediat-”

Shinichi hung up.

The phone rang again.

“Hello? You have reach the Golden Frog takeout, what is your order?”

This time, she hung up. Shinichi turned to Hackey and handed him his phone back. It was then he realised Hackey was staring at him in confusion and wonder.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Golden Frog takeout,” Shinichi replied. “Tried and tested technique for getting rid of awful relatives.”

“Where did ya even get that one from?” Hackey shook his head, baffled. “What the fuck, Tsukumoya?”

“It was the first thing that came to mind,” Shinichi admitted awkwardly. 

“Why would ya...why?” Hackey looked at him, the look on his face one of desperation. 

Shinichi shrugged. “You didn’t want to talk to her. It seemed to be having a negative impact on you. I thought I’d try get rid of her. Did I...I’m sorry, was I presumptuous?”

“No, no,” Hackey said quickly, waving his hands. “Thanks. I didn’t expect it, that’s all. Ya did good.” He patted Shinichi on the shoulder self-consciously. “Really, appreciated.” He snickered. “Fuckin’ Golden Frog takeout. That accent, man. You’re such a prize-winning bullshitter. I love it.”

“No problem,” Shinichi said, shifting a little. Hackey didn’t seem to know when to stop patting his shoulder. “It’s what friends are for, right?”

“Friends?” Hackey’s jaw dropped. “Are ya sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’?”

Shinichi nodded. “Of course. We’re friends. Aren’t we?” 

Hackey hesitated, then nodded too. “Yeah. I guess we are.”

Which was...well,  _ something _ .

 

-

 

They worked late. The company had the bright idea of transferring everything over to a new system, so they needed to do a lot of overtime to get things up and running. Before hiring Hackey, it might have taken Shinichi a couple of weeks on his own. Together they could half that, but it still meant they were staying in the office into the early hours of the morning. The time was broken up by bitching and trying to catch popcorn thrown from across the room. Typical mature activities.

Three AM. Later than usual. The finish line was so close, in sight, they could absolutely finish this with one more burst of effort. Just an hour or so more, maybe two...it’d be done soon. 

To be fair, Shinichi had been saying that for the past five hours, so he couldn’t blame Hackey for getting up, crossing the room and grabbing his hand. 

“C’mon, we’re gonna go get some air,” he said, dragging Shinichi along behind him, up to the ground floor, through the still, empty silence of the late night office, and out into the parking lot. The sky above was pitch black, speckled with a few faint stairs. Constellations; Orion’s belt, the Big Dipper, the visible piercing light of Venus distant…

Outside.

It wasn’t like Shinichi didn’t ever go out, because he did. Mostly alone. Mostly for appointments, or to collect deliveries. Mostly alone.

Rarely - make that never - hand intertwined with someone else. Looking up at the stars from the empty parking lot and smiling, and then looking at the freckled patterns on Hackey’s face. 

“Why don’t ya go out?” Hackey asked quietly. “Like, ya don’t have a problem with it, you’re not like...agoraphobic or anything? Is it like...people, or crowds or somethin’? ‘Cause if so, fair. Just...why are ya content to live in a fuckin’ basement? This is the first time I’ve ever seen ya outside. What’s the deal?”

“I suppose I may as well tell you the truth,” Shinichi sighed. “Actually I have an immunodeficiency disorder. To put it very, very simply, I don’t make antibodies by myself. When I was sick that time...that was because I’d had an injection to boost my immune system, to a roughly normal standard. My parents were pretty protective of me. I guess I got used to being indoors.”

Hackey blinked. “What the hell, man? I’ve come into work with a cold more than fuckin’ once, that coulda, coulda...that coulda fuckin’ hurt ya, right?”

“I am more susceptible to infections, yes.”

“What the fuck?!” Hackey was waving his arms frantically. “Why didn’t ya say somethin’? I coulda made ya sick!”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Shinichi said calmly. “I get treatment. I function. It’s not like the whole boy-in-a-bubble syndrome. No, I have Combined Variable Immune Deficiency. Less severe. Though it does come with its own complications...it’s treatable.”

“What kind of complications?” Hackey sounded genuinely worried. 

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Shinichi said, missing out all the ‘increased risk of cancer’ and various other less than pleasant traits that could crop up sometimes. “Like I said, I’m fine. I didn’t say anything because…” he trailed off. “Would you? People are weird about it. Even you...now that you know, you’re acting different.”

“I-” Hackey cut off. “Fine, okay. Nothing to see here. All normal.” He hesitated. “Wait, that explains the hygiene thing. The sanitiser. An’ I thought you were just some neurotic. Okay, I’m done. Sympathy over, back to the regular programme of fuck you. Today’s news: fuck you, Tsukumoya. Fuck you.”

“Thank you, Hackey. For being such a...I would say good friend, but my mouth won’t let me lie that much. For being such a jerkwad, then.”

“Fuckin’  _ rude _ . You’re such a bitch.” He coughed surreptitiously. “So uh...you just...calling me Hackey on the regular now or what?”

“I believe we’re on first name terms. And you don’t seem to enjoy being called any of your given names. It’s only respectful I use your preferred term of address.”

“Uh...thanks?” Hackey seemed really taken aback. “Shinichi. Right. Gotta get used to that one now. Shinichi. Gotcha. Shinichi.”

It was then Shinichi realised something important, while laughing at Hackey’s awkwardness and subsequently being cursed out, in an empty parking lot at 3:17am.

They were still holding hands.

And seeing as neither of them would be the first to back down…

Claimed hand, never to be relinquished. 

All in the name of the Hand Requisitions Department.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> read Durarara x7 the other day and totally reevaluated how I write Shinichi tbh...I'm also ridiculously attached to the bit about chugging soy sauce like I was on the bus and I couldn't publicly cackle but I WAS publicly cackling.
> 
> I love that fuckin asshole so much he's so obnoxious
> 
> CVID is a thing and I research it bits for this AU. So much googling was needed. I am fuckin dedicated for once.
> 
> THESE FUCKIN NERDS THO OH BOY


	7. Hackey Mouse's 100% Foolproof Plan to Get Laid Goes Somewhat Awry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more cameos of mirald aka light of my fuckin disasterlife   
> why does he hurt me so  
> this au isn't nice to him or my feelings so sorry
> 
> on the plus hand tho, NERDOS MAKE PROGRESS

**Chapter 7 - Hackey Mouse's 100% Foolproof Plan to Get Laid Goes Somewhat Awry**

 

For fuck’s sake, why him?

He had a fucking crush on Shinichi Tsukumoya. The utter bitch he openly despised. He had a crush on him. They’d been holding hands in the parking lot at 3:17am and Hackey hadn’t wanted to let go and he’d looked at that ridiculously cute face and contemplated kissing him and realised  _ for fuck’s sake I have a fucking crush on Shinichi Tsukumoya _ . He wanted to steal a samurai sword specifically for purposes of seppuku. Now which of his nerdy as fuck friends was most likely to own a sword? Doubs probably did somewhere but he owned so much random shit Hackey’d never find it anywhere.

What about Yellow or Aiji? They were like, Japanese-ish, technically? Right?

Was that stereotyping?

...that was definitely stereotyping. If any of them owned a sword, it’d be Rude. He owned collections of almost everything. What a rich asshat. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him.

He didn’t want this. How did you deal with a crush without dying in a brutal mess? Alcohol. Emily’s leaving party was coming up so all he had to do was sneak some booze down to the basement. Who Emily was, Hackey had no idea. He didn’t need to. He had a plan.

Step A: ditch the party to get drunk with Tsukumoya

Step B: get laid

Step C: never speak of it again.

It seemed a solid plan, at any rate. There were zero flaws in it, and no way it could go wrong whatsoever.

 

-

 

[mirror-mirror]: this plan has a hundred thousand flaws and more than a million ways it could go wrong.

 

Hackey glared at the computer screen. He’d privately messaged Mirald to ask for angry crush advice, then remembered why nobody in their right mind would ask Mirald for any advice in the history of ever. Because he was a fucking jackass.

 

[HackeyMouse]: ok then mr know it all tell me how u and dorrikey went from bitchy mcbitches to banging   
[HackeyMouse]: bc i have been wondering abt that lemme tell u  
[HackeyMouse]: if ya can convince someone to bone u then i need to know ur ways  
[mirror-mirror]: honestly i’m as surprised as you are. I thought dorrikey knew better but apparently not.  
[mirror-mirror]: esp after what happened in germany  
[HackeyMouse]: oh yea, somebody went off their meds again. how’d that work out for ya?  
[mirror-mirror]: perfectly fine. I got a boyfriend out of it, didn’t I?  
[HackeyMouse]: ive said it before and ill say it again, mirald ya manipulative fuck ur such a bastard  
[HackeyMouse]: any actual fuckin tips?   
[mirror-mirror]:  ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
[HackeyMouse]: gr8888 ur such a big help screw u so much mirald ya motherfucker  
[mirror-mirror]: what do you want from me? do i look remotely like an agony aunt? why are you asking me of all people?  
[mirror-mirror]: because as we all know, i’m a schizophrenic mess who can’t be trusted on his own without being #medicatedtohellandback :))  
[mirror-mirror]: so why am i qualified to help you with your frankly disastrous love life with your emotionally constipated immunodeficient coworker? You want me to ask Hawking for his input, see where that gets you?  
[HackeyMouse]: sure what the fuck can’t hurt  
[mirror-mirror]: he says shut your entire fuck, Hackey  
[HackeyMouse]: really?  
[mirror-mirror]: no I made that up ;)  
[mirror-mirror]: he didn’t say anything. Amilsulpride on the other hand said ‘sure whatever, go for it Hackey. have a disastrous drunken hook-up. that sounds healthy but what would I know I’m an antipsychotic medication’.  
[mirror-mirror]: but then, who am I to stop you? Go for it.  
[HackeyMouse]: ya fuckin suck, mirald. major dick.  
[HackeyMouse]: ground control to major dick, mirald is sucking it.  
[mirror-mirror]: yes I absolutely am and it belongs to dorrikey ;))))))))))  
[HackeyMouse]: didnt want to know  
[HackeyMouse]: goodfuckinbye, asshole-in-chief  
[mirror-mirror]: bye-bye xxxxxxxxx

 

“Ugh. Dickwad,” Hackey muttered.

“Who this time?” Tsukumoya asked from the other side of the office. Quickly Hackey closed the tab; given Tsukumoya’s tendency to snoop, he didn’t want him seeing the topic being discussed. He might have already seen it, since he spied on monitors all the time but if he had, he’d have said something. He was too much of a bitch to have not.

“Uh, Mirald? I told you about him, right?”

“I think I’ve heard his name before now, yes. Is he okay?”

Hackey nodded. “Yea, yea, just an annoying prick. Pain in the ass. What he should be, honestly. I mean, he always is but when he’s not taking his meds, he’s a fucking mess and it’s concerning. Put it this way, he claims he’s a telepath and talks to an imaginary black hole in his head so…but he’s good right now. Antipsychotics doing their magic.”

“Sounds tough,” Tsukumoya replied sympathetically. “How long have you known him for?”

“Since college. Used to crash with me and Doubs sometimes. Absolutely never had a fuckin’ threesome no matter what Doubs Fuckface Hewley says I wasn’t that drunk I’d fuckin’ remember it.” Hackey sighed. “He had this...I dunno, some kind of episode. Had to drop out in the end. If he wasn’t such a fucklord, I’d have felt more sorry for him, ‘cause he’s a smart guy really. I mean really goddamn smart. He can read people like he’s actually reading their fuckin’ minds. Pisses everyone off no end. And now he’s a filthy dropout statistic. Fuckin’ tragic. Still. He’s Dorrikey’s problem now, ever since they got together things have been...I dunno, manageable. Better, I guess. Yanno what I mean?”

“I understand,” Tsukumoya scooted over on that dumb egg chair and put an his hand on Hackey’s shoulder. Even as Hackey willed himself not to react, he could feel his cheeks  _ burning _ and the contact made him feel his heart pounding loudly and  _ he had a fucking crush on Shinichi Tsukumoya god he hated that guy so much.  _ “Are you okay?”

“Yea yea, why wouldn’t I be?” Hackey laughed nervously.

“I just wanted to check,” Tsukumoya said. “I  _ was _ under the impression it was polite to ask.”

“Bitch, ya didn’t have to make it sound so intense and emotional like what the fuck. It’s just asking how I fuckin’ am! Why’ve ya gotta make it deep?”

Tsukumoya smirked and Hackey groaned internally. Fuck him. “My mistake. Next time I’ll let you stew over it rather than doing the decent thing and asking how you are. I forgot any level of politeness was a foreign concept to you.”

“Fuck you!” Hackey yelled. “Politeness my ass, you’re such a fuckin’ bitch. Get off your high-ass horse already.” Really he just wanted to move things on so it didn’t feel so...so...like they were on thin ice that was going to crack sooner or later and unleash a veritable flood of  _ feelings _ . Ugh. Feelings. Who needed ‘em? Not him, for sure. Moving on. “So uh...it’s Emily’s leaving party tomorrow, right?”

“I was under that impression, yes,” Tsukumoya remarked drily, moving back to his side of the office to continue pretending to work.

“Man, who the fuck even is Emily?” Hackey groaned. “And why am I supposed to give a shit? One less person to piss me off with their problems, an’ I get to raid the buffet, so I dunno why they expect me to be anything less than over-fuckin’-joyed.”

“Works in accounts. She’s moving to New York.” Tsukumoya didn’t even pause to think. Of course he knew everyone that worked in the building. He’d be a shitty corporate spy if he didn’t. Speaking of that, Hackey still had no idea what was up, and Tsukumoya hadn’t offered any more information since that one time he’d been ill. No, he was back to the cagey S.O.B. he’d been before and nothing had changed.

Nothing had changed  _ for him _ .

Hackey, on the other hand, had the world’s most uncalled for crush.

“Good fuckin’ riddance,” Hackey muttered. “Take it ya won’t be comin’ to the party?”

“Ten out of ten. Do you want a prize?” The tone in Tsukumoya’s voice was  _ almost _ flirtatious, except haha it was Tsukumoya, so he was clearly just being a bitch. Hackey rolled his eyes dramatically and ignored him.

“Hilarious. I was thinkin’ maybe I should bring some shit down for ya, yanno, takin’ pity on a lonely little fuck like you. That’d be my charity work for the year done an’ done. Whaddaya think? Anythin’ ya’d like me to grab?”

He looked over at his coworker who was  _ staring _ at him with undisguised amazement. Like he’d just announced he’d buy him a goddamn pony or something. He smiled - genuinely, not that shitty smirk that got under Hackey’s skin so so much, a real, honest-to-gosh adorable smile. 

“That’d be nice. Thanks.”

“Don’t fuckin’ mention it,” Hackey muttered, making a show of acting all begrudging. Inside he was laughing maniacally and rubbing his hands together. The plan was in motion. 

Operation: bang Shinichi Tsukumoya was a-go.

 

-

 

“You’re not seriously going ahead with this, are you?” Doubs asked dubiously.

Hackey nodded and accidentally slipped, applying hair dye to his forehead. He cursed. “You’re damn right I am. Dunno why you’re surprised, what else do ya expect?”

“From you? Disappointment,” Doubs retorted. “Are you sure about this? I know you, you’re the opposite of smooth.”

“What are ya sayin’, bitch?”

Doubs smiled lazily. “Well, what I’m saying is that you’re hideously awkward and in all probability after this you won’t be able to look Tsukumoya in the face and you’ll wind up quitting your job just to avoid him. Which is fine and dandy in college but as a functioning adult…”

Hackey wished he could argue, but it was true. Fucking Doubs. Why did he have to be right? Such a prick.

“Guess who doesn’t give a fuck?” He pointed at himself proudly. “Me! And not a single fuck was given on this here day.”

“Have fun!” Doubs waved cheerfully. “Always use protection!”

“Fuck you!”

“Don’t you mean fuck Tsukumoya?”

“That’s the plan.” Hackey grinned wickedly. “And it is absolutely infallible. No matter what you an’ Mirald an’ everyone else try an’ say. In-fuckin’-fallible.”

Doubs snorted. “Whatever you say.” 

 

-

 

Emily’s leaving party was absolutely delightful. Good, wholesome, swear-jar approved fun. To put it quite simply, it was a fucking drag and you couldn’t have paid Hackey to stick around. Well, you probably could have because, hell, money was money, but tonight he had places to be. Coworkers to  _ do _ . And to have anything remotely resembling enough confidence required for that, he needed alcohol. In quantities along the lines of ‘lots’. He was already pretty tipsy by the the time someone started up the karaoke machine and Hackey decided it was definitely time to bail, rather than listen to Patricia utterly butcher Dancing Queen. Definitely Hackey’s cue to leave. Exit stage left, right?

Gathering up some snacks (read: half the buffet) and balancing a bottle of schnapps on top he made his way to the elevator as covertly as possible, while still acquiring more snacks on the way. He’d bought sake, specially for the occasion, and it was tucked precariously under his arm, constantly threatening to slip. Tsukumoya had better appreciate it. Carrying all this was practically a workout. Ugh.

The elevator doors dinged open and Kelly emerged, arms folding soon as she saw him. 

“And where do you think you’re going with all that? Subsaharan Africa to feed the starving children? Other people do need to eat.”

Hackey tittered. Was he drunk already? Why was he such a lightweight? “Nah, promised I’d take some sh-  _ stuff _ down to you-know-who. Wouldn’t want him missin’ out. ‘m generous like that, yanno.”

“How  _ nice _ .” Her tone sounded like she suspected something but wasn’t willing to call him out. Hackey tried to look innocent. He failed. Kelly stepped aside and let him in and he punched the button for the basement.

The elevator creaked downwards.

Hackey’s mouth was dry. Shit. Had this been a bad idea after all? He took a carefully coordinated swig of the schnapps then wondered if Tsukumoya would be okay to drink from it. He said he had a normal immune system with treatment. What about kissing? How was he with kissing? Important questions.

Ding.

Hackey stepped out of the elevator and staggered to his office, TEH SUPPO, teetering under the weight of all the snacks. Maybe he had gone a little overboard. Easing the door open, he stepped inside.

“Hey, what’s up ya lonely little fuck? Brought some sustenance so ya don’t  starve to death in the long, cold winters.”

“You’re all heart,” Tsukumoya sniped back.

For some reason that was funnier than it should have been. Schnapps snorted out his nose. 

“Ain’t I just.” He tried to wave the bottles and sent everything crashing to the floor. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck.”

Sighing, like he was dealing with a petulant child, Tsukumoya set about picking up the various foodstuffs. He paused at the bottle of sake, reading the label intently. 

“What’s this? Your attempt to make me feel at home?”

“For what it’s worth, yea actually. Thought ya’d be a bit more appreciative than this,” Hackey grumbled.

“Didn’t you know? I can’t drink alcohol with the medication I take.”

Hackey’s jaw dropped. “I - ya coulda said somethin’! This ruins the whole plan now!” Soon as he’d said it he knew his mistake, slapping his hand over his mouth.

“Actually, I  _ was _ joking,” Tsukumoya said, smirking like the bastard he was. “But now you’ve given the game away. What, may I ask, is your plan?”

“None of ya business!” Hackey snapped, blushing furiously. Tsukumoya was leaning a little too close, his eyebrow quirked ever so slightly upwards.

“At a guess, it involves getting me drunk. Some sort of...drinking game?” Tsukumoya tilted his head, confused. “Warm? Cold?”

“Uhhh yea yea, fuckin’ jackpot,” Hackey blurted quickly. “Drinking game, absolutely.” He fumbled to unscrew the top of the bottle Tsukumoya was still holding. After a few unsuccessful attempts Tsukumoya intervened, pouring himself a small cup of sake. He cradled the cup gently.

“So? What’s the object of this drinking game?”

Hackey laughed. “Here’s how it goes. Take a drink, right.” Tsukumoya obliged, making a face as he did. Hackey snickered, following suit with the stolen schnapps. “Now, ya face one another an’ just-” He leaned in, clumsily kissing Tsukumoya, hopefully on the lips. He felt him tense up completely, freezing stock still like a statue. It was like he was kissing stone, or ice, judging by how cold and unresponsive Tsukumoya was.

He’d really fucked this up now.

Pulling away he cursed himself internally. One job. He’d had one job in this godforsaken plan and he’d managed to balls it up. Mirald and Doubs had been right after all. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. I just wanted to get this out my system,” Hackey said quickly. “I didn’t - I’m sorry, alright.” He ran a hand through his freshly dyed hair and sighed. “I’ll just go.”

He was halfway to the door when Tsukumoya at last came back to life. “Dona- Hackey, wait.” His cheeks were flushed. He grabbed Hackey’s wrist, tightening his grip. “We should talk.”

Hackey choked on thin air, spluttering. “Talk? What do ya want from me? Ya clearly don’t wanna kiss me, that’s for fuckin’ sure, an’ in case ya hadn’t notice, I’m pretty shit at this-”

“And so am I.” Tsukumoya interrupted firmly. “As you’re so fond of reminding me, I’m a hermit who lives in a cupboard. That’s the first time anyone’s kissed me since I left Japan. Over three years ago,  _ Hackey _ ! Forgive me if the whole thing came as a bit of a shock.” He rolled his eyes. “Besides, I didn’t expect you to make the first move.”

What. The. Fuck.

“Are ya sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’?” Hackey hissed. “That I made this whole devious scheme for nothing?”

“Oh no, not for nothing. It’s proven very entertaining for me.” Tsukumoya was back bitching again. He didn’t seem all tense and weird and frozen. “And it’s brought our attention to the elephant in the room. Specifically - whatever this is between the two of us.” He waved a vague hand. Suddenly he seemed a lot less sure of himself and Hackey realised he was, as he’d been saying, equally out of his depth.

Under any other circumstance, Hackey would have relished the sight of Tsukumoya squirming but right now he had rather more pressing concerns. Namely the large degree of internal screaming.

“What do you mean?” Hackey managed, trying to keep himself relatively together (failing). “Hahaha there’s nothing between us whatsoever.”

“That explains why you wanted to get drunk and make out,” Tsukumoya replied drily.

Hackey coughed. “Actually I was kinda banking on more than that. Yanno how I said I need a lot of alcohol in me for this kinda thing.” Tsukumoya’s eyes widened. “Forget it, man. ‘m a fuckin’ idiot.”

“Yes. You are,” Tsukumoya agreed. “It’s simultaneously one of your most annoying and endearing traits.” Reaching over he patted Hackey’s shoulder gently. “Don’t worry about it. Neither of us are any good at this, are we?”

“Fuck no,” Hackey snickered. “God, I’m not drunk enough to deal with this. Fuckin’ feelings. Never have ‘em.”

“What are they? Is this some American concept nobody told me about?”

“Search me. I don’t know what they are. Nothing to see here.”

“Zero feelings. Especially toward you.”

“Agreed. Not like I’ve got any feelings for ya either.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

Awkward silence. Hackey was conscious of Tsukumoya’s presence, his hand on his back, the closeness between them.

He coughed. “So uh...wanna skip the conversation since we’re a pair of losers an’ cut straight to sloppy makeouts?”

“Smooth,” Tsukumoya chuckled.

“Shut the fuck up, Shinichi ya assfaced bitch an’ kiss me.”

The plan hadn’t gone as intended.

Rather than a drunk hookup, getting this all out of his system, he was now curled up in that stupid eggchair, kissing Shinichi’s stupid smug face and ‘out of his system’, hell, he wanted more. So he carried on. 

He’d regret it come morning. He knew he would.

Until then he’d continue. Shinichi couldn’t bitch while they were kissing, an added bonus. It wasn’t like he was enjoying it so much he literally never wanted to stop and he had a crush on Shinichi Tsukumoya what a fucking nerd, he was an awful kisser, so out of practise, and yet it felt amazing and he never wanted to stop.

He was so, so screwed.

 

-

 

“I should head home,” Hackey yawned. He’d have to get a taxi at this time. “Shinichi, c’mon. I gotta go.”

“You can stay here,” Shinichi murmured sleepily.

“In the fuckin’ cupboard? I prefer an actual fuckin’ bed, but thanks.” He went to move Shinichi’s arm off him but the smaller man was stronger than he looked. “Alright, alright, I’ll stay.”

He could have sworn he saw that son-of-a-bitch smirk.

Man, fuck Shinichi Tsukumoya.

Fuck him and  _ fuck him _ .

 

-

 

His phone buzzed.

[mirror-mirror]: told u so

As Dorrikey said: mind-reading bastard.

 

-

 

“Told you so,” Doubs said smugly. 

Hackey flipped him off and collapsed face down on the sofa in a heap of groans.

First Mirald, now Doubs. And knowing Doubs, the whole chat knew by now. Yellow would be churning out memes already. Shitty, subpar memes.

Screwed didn’t even begin to cover it.

Doomed - now  _ that _ was more like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCKIN FIIIIIIIIINALLY FFS GUYS SRSLY


	8. 'Healthy' and 'Functional' Relationships Happen To Other People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE. In between uni and various things I got this chapter done and it surprised me when I realised yup im done...this chapter is done! I FUCKIN LIVE

Not for the first time, he woke up to Hackey beside him. This time, however, he just lay there, watching this lanky mess of limbs drool on his pillow. He didn’t really have much choice - one of those long arms was sprawled across him and while he could have wriggled out, he just didn’t feel like it. This was, against all odds, comfortable. Pleasant, even. He ran a hand through Hackey’s absurd hair and heard him groan.

“Fmfckin’ hmfngover ugggggh God.” Hackey was trying to retreat under the pillow. “Let me die already.”

“Sleep well?” Tsukumoya asked cheerfully.

“Fuckin’...hate you, yanno that?”

“So you’ve said,” Tsukumoya replied. “It’s not my place to call bullshit but I’m calling bullshit.”

“I have the worst taste in people,” Hackey muttered, stuffing the pillow completely over his head.

His arm was no longer around Tsukumoya, so he could get up. Much as he’d have liked to stay there a little longer, he definitely needed to make a start on _work_ and he couldn’t just spend the whole day curled up in bed, no that was too clingy. He wasn’t clingy. So he left Hackey to rest and got to making himself some tea.

He was thinking.

He couldn’t stop thinking about last night, Hackey kissing him out of nowhere, and he’d just frozen like a deer in the headlights. Was it deer, in the saying, or rabbit? Both had a tendency to bluescreen in the face of the unknown. After that he’d recovered and pulled things around, but this now meant he’d kissed Hackey, Quentin Donaghue, and that wasn’t something that could just be ignored. They had to see one another every day. They had to figure something out.

What did he want from it?

If he knew that, it would have helped a lot. But being drawn to Hackey wasn’t so simplistic. It was frustrating, it was a headache, it didn’t make sense. He knew he liked their petty wars, and their movie nights. He tentatively would say he liked the intimacy, unfamiliar though it was. He liked… _Hackey_ , inexplicably enough. After last night, he knew Hackey liked him, when he was drunk, when he could pretend his emotions were the alcohol talking. Sincerity was not his colleague’s forte. Figuring out an actual relationship would be a nightmare, even if it were not uncharted territory for Tsukumoya, perhaps even for Hackey himself.

Sipping his tea, he came to the conclusion he needed advice. And not from Orihara, who would piss himself laughing at the whole situation. A face appeared unbidden in his mind and he shut that idea down. No. That wasn’t an option. Besides, it wasn’t like she was any more experienced at relationships than he was, so it wouldn’t be any help.

Out of his friends - or the people he knew - that were dating or had dated, who could he ask? Granted, that pool was very small, not because he was lonely, but because a lot of his acquaintances were shut-ins and NEETs, or inappropriate to ask because they had slightly twisted ideas about relationships _(looking at you, Shinra)_.

It was time, he figured, to revive his blog.

He hadn’t updated since announcing his move, and bidding everyone farewell. There wasn’t much source material for him outside of Japan, outside of Ikebukuro. Or maybe he just hadn’t wanted to write anymore. Erasing his presence, becoming a ghost, barely speaking to anyone or going outside, it had seemed rational at the time, after the company had decided not to press charges and the scandal Kujiragi had caused had blown over. A self-imposed exile.

Updating his blog meant she would see it. Which wasn’t the same as directly messaging. Still, it would be turning back to his old life when right now there was so much to appreciate about the new. Like Hackey.

Who was so shit at relationships, he had to be drunk to make a move.

Tsukumoya needed to do this, if he was going to get anywhere with that disaster. Lord knew he wasn’t socially adept enough himself.

 

**I live! (+a call for advice)**

_Did anyone expect to see this today? If so, you’re psychic, because I know for a fact I didn’t plan on writing it. But out of nowhere it happened, and you got an email update that the weird immunocompromised blogger who almost got arrested for corporate sabotage (a sentence that is difficult to parse by any stretch) is back._

_Pause for applause._

_Is that deathly silence I hear? I don’t blame you. Two years, give or take, off the grid does kind of kill any audience. How’s the WiFi in your graveyards?_

_What led me to update is this - I need some advice. I’m not, as we all know, romantically competent by any stretch of the imagination. Were I, hypothetically, to find myself in a situation with a coworker, who also happens to be one of the most irritating people alive, and neither of us are any good at talking, what would your advice be? Any tips for starting a relationship when you’re both total incompetents and work in IT?_

_The exact situation? As follows…_

 

He gave a brief summary of the previous night, then edited, then edited again, staring at the screen. In the end, he compiled a bare-bones bullet-point list, as little detail as possible while still making sense.

Then he highlighted it, and hovered over ‘delete’.

Then he pressed post instead.

He closed the tab immediately.

Leaving the computer he headed over to the coffee machine to make Hackey a drink. That was a nice gesture. People did that, after romantic nights, which admittedly normally went further than snogging in a literal cupboard. People made coffee for one another. At this time, and as hungover as he was, Hackey would want black coffee with more sugar than was reasonable for any individual to take into their body in one sitting. That was his go to drink. The fact Shinichi knew this without pause for thought made him rethink certain life choices.

Namely, hiring Hackey Mouse, but that was neither here nor there. It had changed everything. Tentatively for the better.

He knocked on the cupboard door and inched it open. From under the pillow, Hackey groaned. “Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey! Well, I lie. Coffee. I made you coffee.”

Immediately Hackey sat up, bolt upright, and snatched the coffee out of Shinichi’s hands, water to a dying man. Once again, he scalded himself on it, and Shinichi shook his head. What an _idiot_. Why did he feel so happy to know him?

“Ugh...thank you,” Hackey mumbled, eventually. “I…about last night-”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Shinichi said, reluctantly. He wanted to. They were going to have to, eventually. Better to get it out of the way. But dimly, in whatever vague knowledge he had about relationships, he knew Hackey needed to take it at his own pace, and he’d respect that.

“I’m sorry I made shit weird.”

Shinichi stared at him. He seemed genuinely apologetic, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and yawning. “You made shit weird when you arrived. Last night was nice. The kind of niceness it’d be nice to have an encore for.”

“Heh. Gay.”

“You literally kissed me, Hackey.”

“Bitch, you kissed me back!” Hackey waved a dramatic arm. The caffeine was evidently kicking in. “Now you’re sayin’, what, ya wanna date?” He was _nervous_ , of course he was. Shinichi’s own heart was in his throat.

“Yes?”

“Oh shit. What now?”

“I have no idea.”

And so began their relationship.

 

-

 

The weirdest part about dating Hackey was how little changed. They watched movies after work, they shot nerf guns across the office (mostly Hackey, but not _completely_ ), they still had petty wars and Hackey still tried to avoid doing any work whatsoever. Only now he had another outlet for his powers of procrastination, and that was sauntering across the office to curl up with Shinichi in his chair and make out. Stealing kisses instead as installing updates. He really was incorrigible. More than once the phone had rang and one of them had answered it breathless, which didn’t leave a good impression about what was going on down in TEH SUPPO. Still, it was nice.

“ _Nice_. Ya suck at compliments, yanno that?” Hackey bitched, roughly three days in. “What happened to Mr Thesaurus Assface?”

“Not my first language, and you know it,” Shinichi pointed out, burying his face in that stupidly bright hair. “What would you rather I said?”

“Fuckin’ amazing,” Hackey murmured. He went bright red. “I mean-”

“No, I think you made your feelings clear,” Shinichi teased, and _his boyfriend_ (?????? how had this happened????????) groaned.

“I fuckin’ hate you, God. Just fuckin’ shut up and kiss me so I don’t have to hear your bitchy bitch voice bitching anymore.”

That was just how Hackey expressed affection. Shinichi was used to it. Actually, he liked it. It wasn’t saccharine, Hackey never was. But it was, in its own way, affectionate. They’d been dating, though nothing much had changed, for three days.

And everything was as usual.

 

-

 

**Orihara Izaya**

So you don’t have a crush on your coworker, then?

 

Shinichi glanced over at Hackey, who was carrying out a long, frustrating conversation trying to explain how to connect to the WiFi.

 

“An’ then ya just click on the WiFi option, look, it’s in the menu...it’s not hard to find, Calvin ya dickhead. What no, I’m offended by the insinuation. I would never call ya that. I’m a fuckin’ professional. Fine, I’ll come up and help. Smell ya later.” Hackey hung up and groaned. “Gotta go get Calvin online. Ten to one it’s to torrent porn.” He crossed the room and gave Shinichi a quick kiss. “Seeya, wouldn’t wanna be ya, fuckin’ loser.”

 

He watched Hackey leave and then looked back to the computer.

 

**Tsukumoya Shinichi**

I’m as surprised by this development as you are, Yamcha.

 

**Orihara Izaya**

Except for the part where I called it from day one

 

**Orihara Izaya**

So how’s the beautiful romance going?

 

**Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Wonderfully, thank you for asking.

 

**Tsukumoya Shinichi**

We’re having hourly sex on top of our desks, of course.

 

**Orihara Izaya**

I’m hiring an assassin to kill you then myself so I don’t have to live with that image.

 

**Tsukumoya Shinichi**

:’(

 

**Orihara Izaya**

Save your crocodile tears for someone who cares because I sure as hell don’t

 

**Orihara Izaya**

...on the topic of cold-blooded reptiles, I ran into Kujiragi

 

Shinichi may not have been a reptile, but his blood ran cold. Was the timing bitter coincidence or something fated? Of course, he’d known she obviously still existed. She hadn’t commented on his blog post, but the world didn’t revolve around him, he couldn’t expect her to (the comments he had got were all happy to see him alive and gave a lot of pretty much useless advice - and disturbing in the case of Walker and Erika). Still, Orihara bringing her up couldn’t have been anticipated.

 

**Orihara Izaya**

Is this still a bad topic? I mean, it was two years ago now. If you’re still caught up over it, that’s kinda tragic.

 

**Tsukumoya Shinichi**

I don’t know about you, but being framed for corporate theft does tend to ruin an otherwise healthy friendship.

 

**Orihara Izaya**

Nothing about your friendship was healthy.

 

**Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Is there a point to this story?

 

**Orihara Izaya**

Yeah we ran into one another. I think she misses you <3333

 

**Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Cute.

 

**Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Did anything actually come of it or?

 

**Orihara Izaya**

We didn’t even talk about you. It was all work stuff, her company wanted to hire me on a contract.

 

**Orihara Izaya**

Except she said she was glad you’re okay. In veryyyy basic terms.

 

**Orihara Izaya**

She makes you look not emotionally repressed

 

**Tsukumoya Shinichi**

I mean it’s understandable. She’s been through a lot.

 

**Orihara Izaya**

And still screwed you over.

 

**Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Way to rub it in.

 

**Orihara Izaya**

You’re welcome~

 

**Tsukumoya Shinichi**

I’d better go.

 

He closed the tab and stared at the empty screen. He was still staring when Hackey walked back in, already talking relentlessly and complaining about literally everyone they had to work with.

“Fuckin’ Calvin can choke on a fuckin’ dick. Who the fuck doesn’t know what the WiFi icon looks like? What kind of world are we living in?” He looked over at Shinichi. “Ya alright, man? Ya look spooked.”

 _You should communicate_ , one of the comments had said. _Tell them what you feel. It’s cliche but it makes or breaks a relationship.  
_

“It’s nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not that much really happens but I'll fuckin stand by it this is solid writing alwrite (I will look back on this note, however, and cringe)  
> horrible trashlosers and messpeople
> 
> I'm way too invested in whatever the fuck Izaya is doing in this fic. I wanna know what everyone else is up to too! Gdi


	9. Hackey Mouse Is Not Very Good At Dating (but he tries)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyyyyyyyyyy i managed to get another chapter done in between the horrors of academia.   
> can these fuckin losers....pls  
> pls  
> PLEASE

****...his weird boyfriend was acting weird. Definitely. He kept staring at his screen in mute silence and closing the tab when Hackey tried to see what he was up to. Shinichi being secretive was nothing new, he had a whole career built around it, but this was different. He didn’t seem smug about it, more disconnected, distant. There was something wrong and Hackey had no idea what to do. He was struggling enough with the idea of even having a boyfriend, he couldn’t  _ talk about it _ . So instead he kept climbing into Shinichi’s stupid egg chair and wrapping himself around him, some kind of distraction from whatever it was that was bugging him. He seemed to appreciate it, anyway. 

Even as out of it as he currently was, he was still thorough enough to erase his internet history. No chance of figuring it out that way.

Hackey  _ was _ worried. There, he’d said it. He actually gave a crap about Shinichi and his obnoxiousness, though he’d never say it out loud. Who did they think he was, huh? Some well-adjusted human being and not a complete disaster? Yeah, no.

“You wanna get some air?” he suggested, in lieu of real communication. Shinichi shrugged vaguely and didn’t turn around. “C’mon, ya little basement goblin. Let’s split. We could, I dunno, go out somewhere, do something, whatever.”

Shinichi smirked. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“Ah- fuck off, ya dickeating prick, we  _ are _ dating! Ya can’t act high and mighty when ya agreed to go out with me of all fuckin’ people.” Banter was good. Banter was the usual state of affairs. “No...well, maybe, I dunno. If ya don’t wanna go somewhere public, ya could come over to mine and play videogames.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?”

To think, to  _ fucking _ think, Hackey had been worrying about this asshole. He hated him. He hated him so, so much. “I swear to God if you keep talking I’m gonna break up with ya and set your egg chair on fire.”

“There’s an obvious solution to  _ that _ problem,” Shinichi pointed out, swivelling around. “You have to stop me talking.”

Hackey groaned, as though it were a chore, as though it weren’t exactly what he’d been wanting all along. “Fiiiiine.”

And so, they spent a sizeable chunk of the afternoon engaged in good, wholesome fun known also as kissing a hell of a lot. Hackey could feel Shinichi’s arms looped around his neck, he could feel him relaxing, and this felt so normal it was terrifying. Two birds, one stone; he’d managed to distract his weird boyfriend from being weird, and he was also sticking his tongue down his weird boyfriend’s throat. 

Did that stop him worrying? It should have. Shinichi was acting his usual bitch self. There was nothing wrong with him. Even his immune system was doing what immune systems were supposed to do and functioning normally. Still, Hackey couldn’t shake the deep, uneasy feeling something was very, very wrong. Sometimes he even wished he was  _ anybody _ else, someone who could raise this concern with Shinichi in the first place. So he kept deflecting and distracting and doing shit like this, because it made him feel better in the short run, rather than trying to figure out some kind of endgame. 

“Yes,” Shinichi murmured, into his neck. “I’d like to come round and play videogames.” He pulled away suddenly. “As long as that’s all we do,  _ Donaghue _ .”

“Yeah yeah, intimacy issues, we both suck at this, I getcha.” Hackey didn’t mean to sound bitter, he knew it was true. They were terrible at pretty much everything. He didn’t need that spelling out in neon caps locks, that both of them were pieces of shit. “When do ya wanna do this?” Shinichi didn’t answer. “Is tomorrow after work aight with you? That’d give me time to evict Doubs and sell all his shit online. I swear he’s the messy one, not me. Anyone who says otherwise is an out-and-out liar.”

Eventually, Shinichi nodded. “Sure. It’s a date.”

Hackey blushed. “You’re a fuckin’ jackass. I hate you.”

And everything was normal.

 

-   
  
  


“I’m not moving into a storage container so you can hook up with your weird boyfriend.” 

Doubs didn’t need to take up the entire sofa while he painted his toenails, but lo and behold, he was.

“Aw, c’mon. Just for one night!” Hackey pouted. “Besides, we ain’t gonna be hooking up.”

Doubs looked at him, disbelieving, then cursed. “See what you did? Your terrible lie made me smudge my nails.”

Reaching over, Hackey promptly smudged all of them and smirked, self-satisfied. Doubs glared at him and started again. “I’m serious.”

“Really? You’re incapable of having an actual relationship, for one thing. You’re telling me this isn’t going to end in disaster? Like when we were in college?” 

“Okay first off, I’m not in college anymore. Second, that whole situation was totally not just my fault. You can act all innocent but I was there too. And then Mirald...well, yanno. His whole shit went down. It wasn’t just me.” Hackey flopped into his seat and slouched down. “Ya really think it’s gonna go that bad?”

“I know your track record,” replied Doubs, once more focusing intensely on his toenails. “It won’t be malicious, but it will implode.”

“Thanks for the optimism. Also, fuck you.”

“You’re welcome,” Doubs smiled. “I don’t mean any offence by it, Hackey. It’s just you. I’m saying this as an outside observer, and as someone who has honestly never had a committed relationship and isn’t about to start now.”

“And ya wonder why I want ya to move into a storage container,” Hackey muttered. Truth was, he was terrified Doubs was right. He often was, and that was the worst part. He knew things, and he was  _ right _ about them and if he was calling this relationship as doomed from the start, what if it was? 

What if Doubs was right?

And what if there was nothing Hackey could do about it?

 

-

 

They finished up work at actual closing time the next day, locked up the TE H SUPPO office and headed out. It was always pretty weird seeing Shinichi actually outdoors, and he squeezed his hand, trying to be a reassuring presence. He wasn’t very reassuring so it probably didn’t work, but he wasn’t going to let go now. Shinichi smiled faintly, before pulling his facemask up - they were getting public transport, and it was always better to be safe than sorry, even if his immune system apparently did work. The journey back to Hackey’s passed uneventfully; if anything, Shinichi was still too quiet, not bitching enough. But then who liked talking on the bus? Normal people didn’t like talking on the bus, let alone emotionally repressed idiots. 

...he was totally overthinking everything, goddammit. Why was his brain doing this? He didn’t give a shit about anyone! That was his thing! This was just totally uncalled for, ugh. Put those emotions away, never to be seen again.

“This one,” he said when the stop was near, nudging Shinichi off his shoulder. “We gotta go.” From there, it would be like, five minutes walk back to the apartment. He explained all this, motormouthing as they got off the bus. “...an’ it ain’t far, so your tiny legs won’t get too fucked, trust me, it’ll be-”

“What’s with you lately?” Shinichi asked, out of nowhere. Hackey stumbled, basically tripping over the kerb. He cursed. Shinichi was fixing him with this serious look; of course he’d seen through his shit right away. “You’ve been acting...I’d say concerned, but no, that implies altruism. What are you after?”

“I’m acting weird? Bitch, if I’m actin’ weird, where’ve you been at?” he blurted, without stopping to think ‘hey, this might not be the best idea I’ve ever had’. “So do ya normally just stop speakin’ for days or do ya like me that much, huh?”

“What does that even  _ mean _ ?”

Hackey whirled around, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him close. “What I fuckin’ said. Ya don’t say shit unless I start, an’ even then ya don’t really  _ talk _ to me. Where’s the stupid self-importance, where’s the head-up-ass, where’s any of it? Where...where  _ are _ you right now, dude, ‘cause it sure as hell ain’t here?” He looked at Shinichi, trying to read his expressionlessness and find something,  _ anything _ that might help him out. Nothing. “I dunno. This was stupid anyway.”

Shinichi was quiet, then pulled the mask down and kissed him. “It’s honestly nothing,” he said, clearly lying, but Hackey really wasn’t in the mood to press further. “Just things dragging themselves back up. You don’t need to worry.”

“Did I ever say I was worrying?” Hackey spluttered, indignant.

“Of course not.” Shinichi rolled his eyes. “How could I ever expect anything remotely resembling empathy from you?”

“Bitch-” 

And that was normal. 

 

-

 

“...just to warn you, Doubs is- speak of the fuckin’ devil.” Soon as they got inside, Doubs was there. He didn’t seem to be doing anything  _ particularly _ insidious, but with Doubs Hewley who even fucking knew? “Shinichi, this is my roommate and all-around dickface, Doubs. May have mentioned him like, once, and only negatively. Doubs, meet Shinichi. Coworker, boyfriend, and target of 900% of all bitching.”

Doubs gave an exaggerated bow. “At your service.” 

Shinichi raised his eyebrows. “That’s a bit racist, bowing just because I’m Japanese. How culturally insensitive are you?”

Groaning, Hackey elbowed him, hard. “Ignore him,” he said to Doubs. “He has a shit sense of humour. Thinks he’s a comedic genius.”

“I’ll have you know I ran a popular entertainment blog for a good few years, so there are more people who find me funny than you.”

“He also can’t go five minute without a sarcastic one-liner.”

“You make that sound like a negative.”

“Because it fuckin’ is!”

Doubs stared from one to the other then grinned. “Well, I can see why you two get along. You’re both completely intolerable.”

“That’s me!” Hackey fingergunned. “Now if ya don’t mind, we’re gonna be playing Smash Bros without you.” He stuck his tongue out, shoving Shinichi through the door into his room. 

“Have fun!” Doubs called out, just as Hackey slammed the door behind them. His stupid boyfriend was looking entertained, which was stupidly cute and shouldn’t have been.

Hackey flopped down on his bed immediately. “He’s such a jackass.”

“He seems interesting,” Shinichi agreed. “Thank you for inviting me over.”

And of course, cue ginger genes, and a horrible fucking blush.

 

-

 

They had several rounds on Smash Bros, a genius game if ever there was. On what other platform could you witness Ganondorf vs Pikachu? None. Shit was ridiculous, and ridiculousness was exactly what was needed right now.

Then, a couple of hours in, Doubs knocked and announced that pizza had arrived. He hadn’t said anything about having  _ ordered _ pizza to begin with but hey, don’t take a gift horse to the water and all. Pretty much as soon as they entered the living room, Hackey realised something was up.

“Doubs that’s not a pizza box. That’s a fuckin’ DDR machine.”

Doubs tried to look innocent. “What? They must have mixed up my order. It’d be a shame to let it go to waste now, right?”

That was how Hackey wound up virtually concussing himself, and Doubs and Shinichi wouldn’t stop laughing at him about it all evening.

He knew introducing them was a mistake.

 

-

 

“I’ll be going-” Shinichi began. Hackey shook his head firmly.

“Nuh-uh, it’s like 2am. You can stay here tonight.”

“Are you sure?” Was it just Hackey or did he sound... _ off _ ? 

“Sure. My bed’s more fuckin’ comfortable than your cupboard goblin cave. I mean, not to insult your place or anything but it’s a fuckin’ cupboard.”

It occurred to Hackey that this was almost an exact reversal of their first...not date, but the night after they’d first kissed. Alcohol had been required. 

This time when he kissed Shinichi, he was stone-cold sober, and wondering where his life had gone wrong and why he was revelling in it so much. He didn’t think he’d ever find the answers to those questions. 

But there was no harm in enjoying the journey, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, yelling frantically at the screen: PLEASE...I'M BEGGING YOU, COMMUNICATE  
> my hellfingers, typing madly: lol u thought


	10. Can We Get A Round of Applause for Poor Life Choices?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a whiiiiiiiiiile but whoop here i go again on MY OWWWWWWWN

His phone buzzed.

He hesitated, checking Hackey was asleep, and then he covertly glanced at his screen. He tensed. Of course, he knew who it was, but that name never failed to cause a visceral reaction.

 

**Kujiragi Kasane**

it is a shame about Guillermo del Toro and Pacific Rim 2, but at least we got The Shape of Water out of it.

 

**Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Yes, I’m sure you found the scientists very relatable. Lack of morals and all.

 

**Kujiragi Kasane**

...I liked the fishman.

 

**Kujiragi Kasane**

though of course their scientific curiosity was entirely understandable harsh as their methods were

 

**Tsukumoya Shinichi**

There we go. That’s more like it.

 

**Kujiragi Kasane**

that is not to say I did not appreciate him both aesthetically and as a character

 

**Tsukumoya Shinichi**

…………...aesthetically?

 

**Kujiragi Kasane**

I mean the prosthetics. Nothing else.

 

Did she sound embarrassed? She sounded a bit embarrassed. Or maybe he was projecting emotion onto someone so profoundly inhuman, seeing what he wanted to see. Either or. 

He felt Hackey stir beside him and almost apologetically typed out a hasty message.

 

**Tsukumoya Shinichi**

As always, it’s been good to talk to you but I have to go.

 

And then, hesitating:

 

**Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Later, perhaps.

 

Once more his phone buzzed. He didn’t need to check to know it was her, but he did anyway.

 

**Kujiragi Kasane**

Talk soon.

 

He wasn’t sure why he felt guilty, but he tucked the offending phone out of sight before Hackey rolled over and hit him in the face with one lanky, out-of-control arm. 

“Ughggughughhhhhgh hate mornings,” Hackey groaned. “Why you always so awake at this fuckin’ hour? Unfair. ‘s not like ya even have a healthy sleep pattern. Motherfucker.”

Shinichi smiled, a little sadly. “You know you mean a lot to me.”

Hackey started awake. “What the- of course I fuckin’ do. What kinda stupid crap are ya on? I like your bitch-ass too.” He kissed Shinichi’s cheek. “Ya doin’ okay?”

“Yes, I-” He deflated. “I know I’ve had a lot on my mind lately, but I don’t want you doubting how I feel, if anything-”

“If what?” Hackey interrupted. “The fuck kinda shit are ya talkin’? If  _ what _ ?”

“Things can happen,” Shinichi said calmly. “If anything does, I want you to know I- never mind. If you’re going to be a little bitch about it, you don’t deserve to hear what I’ve got to say.”

“You are  _ such _ a dick,” muttered Hackey, arms wrapped round Shinichi, clinging to him.

And even as he felt content, genuinely happy deep inside, he could feel the guilt eating him up.

He said nothing.

Only clung to Hackey instead.

 

-

 

**Orihara Izaya**

are you sure it’s a good idea for you to talk to her again?

 

Shinichi glanced across the room at Hackey, who was flinging popcorn into the air and catching it, engrossed in Not Working. He knew Hackey didn’t read Japanese, especially at this distance.

 

**Tsukumoya Shinichi**

Unlike some people, Yamcha, I find it healthier to face my problems rather than flat-out ignoring them.

 

**Orihara Izaya**

Since  _ when _ ?

 

**Orihara Izaya**

this isn’t even a case of pot-kettle, it’s just sad, really

 

**Tsukumoya Shinichi**

So speaketh the arbiter of all that is emotionally healthy and mature behaviour.

 

**Orihara Izaya**

I’m just saying, this is one of your worst choices and your choices involved speaking to her in the first place and dating your coworker.

 

**Orihara Izaya**

...and how is that going?

 

**Orihara Izaya**

are you planning on telling him you’re talking to your ex again?

 

Shinichi tapped the keys, replying and deleting until pettiness won out and he said;

 

**Tsukumoya Shinichi**

She’s not my ex.

 

**Orihara Izaya**

my point stands

 

**Tsukumoya Shinichi**

It’s not come up in conversation, but if it does, I’ll tell him.

 

“Who’re ya gossipin’ away with all secret?” Hackey drawled from across the room. Shinichi’s eyes must have widened because Hackey frowned. “See? You’re doin’ it a-fuckin’-gain. What the shit is up with you, man?”

“...got a headache,” Shinichi said, truthfully but still deflecting. “Need to turn the screen brightness down. Sorry if I’m a little off. I don’t know what it is either.”

And  _ there _ he was lying, because he knew. He also knew that while Hackey sucked at empathy he had a tendency to freak out over Shinichi’s health. It was a dick move, it was low, and it made him feel disgusting but he’d said it anyway.

“Oh, what a surprise, a headache.” Hackey rolled his eyes, any concern badly masked in being an utter bitch. “Ya think  _ maybe _ living in a fuckin’ cupboard an’ never leavin’ the computer ain’t exactly good for ya?”He folded his arms stubbornly. “If ya can’t do your work, quit whining an’ go take a nap. Dumbass.”

Since the headache was real, Shinichi did as suggested. He kissed Hackey first - and tasted betrayal in the back of his throat. He swallowed it down. He wasn’t doing anything wrong.

So he almost believed.

 

-

 

If things were different, both of them acted like nothing had changed. If things were tenser, neither of them noticed. That is, both of them noticed, but neither of them lampshaded it.

Shinichi visited Hackey’s place a few more times. It never progressed beyond innocent make-out sessions. The distraction was tangible. They played Mario Kart instead, took turns on Overwatch. Doubs chipped in as Sombra more than once. It wasn’t lost on Shinichi that both he and Hackey mained robots - Hackey memeing as Bastion and Shinichi, while not really one for first-person shooters, taking a shine to Zenyatta. Right then, he’d have given anything not to be human, not to have all these complications.

Something would eventually have to explode. It was a matter of where and when.

As it turned out, the catalyst would be at work.

 

-

 

He’d been called into the boss’ office. Normally, his employer would come down to the basement himself, but today he was insistent. Shinichi left Hackey to it, and headed up to the top floor where the boss waited, absently leafing through several files at once. On seeing Shinichi loitering just outside, he leapt to his feet and practically dragged him inside. They sat in silence for a minute, the boss swaying in his seat just a little, until he was satisfied they weren’t being listened to.

Something Shinichi had learnt long ago was that this company was far from normal. All the data he looked over, all the numbers with sinister shadows behind them. The boss was paranoid, hence why he’d hired a (disgraced) corporate spy.

When he spoke his tone sounded absent, but his dark eyes glinted with ominous presence. “So, your colleague. How’s he settling in?”

Shinichi studied the man opposite, searching for hidden purpose and coming up empty. “When motivated to work, he’s brilliant. He’s just so rarely motivated by himself, I have to make sure he focuses. But he’s good, yes. An asset.”

“Good. If he were left to his own devices, could he rise to the occasion?”

The question was innocuous, and the smile that accompanied it was pleasant enough. Like the figures and the data, it too had more below the surface.

“Why do you ask?” 

The boss’ grin widened; Shinichi’s skin started to crawl. He slid a file across the desk, and Shinichi opened it. Is stomach dropped.

“You don’t have to make your decision now,” his boss was saying. “You can get back to me by the end of the week.”

Dumbly -  _ numbly _ \- Shinichi nodded, and left.

 

-

 

No matter how much Hackey needled him, Shinichi refused to tell him what the meeting had been about. Eventually he got bored and went back to his ‘Dorito Rating Experiment’ (very scientific. Not procrastination at all). Shinichi watched him, already feeling a pang of loss, like this was all about to be over. Kujiragi, and now this file, this  _ opportunity.  _

The increase in pay was the least of it. Everything about this job was an improvement. He’d be a fool not to accept.

And he’d be an asshole to keep Hackey in the dark about it.

He typed out a message to Hackey and pressed send, and before he could respond  _ (disbelief, outrage, hurt) _ , walked off into his cupboard, locking the door. 

He sat there, knees pressed up against his chest, ignoring the frantic banging on the door, the panicked yells.

His phone buzzed.

He ignored it.

 

**Shinichi Tsukumoya**

I’m transferring back to Japan.

 

**Shinichi Tsukumoya**

You can’t change my mind.

 

**Shinichi Tsukumoya**

I’m sorry.

  
  


_ Hackey Mouse is typing... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am having fun and being nice and not MEAN AND BAD so no callout posts at all


End file.
